Maelstrom
by Sayuri1
Summary: ﻿When Ran is left on the edge of insanity, Schuldig is out to take advantage of the ﻿situation. But as a simple mission sucks him in and doesn’t let go, he must decide where his loyalties lie. [yaoi] [Ran x Ken] [Aya x Schu] [in progress]
1. Prologue: Resurfacing

IMPORTANT NOTE: This fanfic has been previously published under the same name, but has undergone some revision. This means that if you have read it before, you should probably skim back through to see any changes. I'm sorry about this, but since I recently decided to revive it after lying dormant for many months, the ideas I had have changed, and the focus of the story will be shifted. Anyway, I just needed to go back and "plant a few seeds" as it were, and in doing so, I tidied up the fic a bit. Spoilers and warnings may have changed since your last visit. 

Edited on: 12/28/01

Title: Maelstrom 

Author: Sayuri (sayuri_tama@hotmail.com)

Rating: R Pairings: Ran x Ken; Aya x Schuldig; Yohji x Omi; Brad x Schuldig 

Spoilers: Set in Kyoto after the anime. As such, there are spoilers for the end of the anime and mild spoilers for the OAV; spoilers for the manga, An Assassin and White Shaman (as it relates to the Fujimiya family and the interactions between Schuldig and Ran). 

Warnings: Angst, Yaoi, Strong Language, Lime, Violence, Implied NCS and Torture, Multi-POV (Ch. 3 +)

Disclaimer: WeiB Kreuz is not mine, of course. It belongs to the awesome Koyasu Takehito, Kyoko Tsuchiya, and Project WeiB.

Author's notes: While I know the Weiss boys are supposed to be living in the mobile Koneko after the anime, I am working on the assumption that they are sharing a flat in Kyoto and using the trailer as a shop/Weiss headquarters.

Anyway, on with the fic!

  
  
  
  


Maelstrom

mael·strom [noun] 1 : a powerful often violent whirlpool sucking in objects within a given radius. 2 : something resembling a maelstrom in turbulence 

~~~`~,~@

Drowning is a hell of a way to die. 

While the body initially fights for air, desperate gasps for air gradually turn into gulps of water. As the lungs begin to fill, the heart starts to slow; the thought-processes lag. The body drifts in an icy coffin, preparing for death. 

Suddenly--as the building completely collapses into the sea pulling whoever is trapped inside to a frigid grave--there is a rush of clarity. 

Through the pitch blackness of imminent death, violet eyes see a blinding vision of a girl with midnight-black hair. Her taller male companion has chocolate-brown locks which fall over wide aqua eyes; eyes which dance with laughter and life. The pair stand together in the sunshine on a rocky seashore, beckoning for the lost boy with sad eyes and flaming red hair to join them--to fight for his life, and to finally awaken from his slumber of living death.

***

Whatever force that had seen fit to spare Weiss that night, be it fate or luck or god, had awaken not only the comatose Fujimiya Aya but her long-quiet brother, Ran. While "Aya" had made an art of suppressing his emotions, on the brink of his death his feelings had been clear and insistent; his vision sharply warning him that he couldn't guarantee how many chances he might have to be honest with those he loved. Upon seeing both Aya-chan and Ken alive that night he believed for the first time that it was possible for Ran to live again.

"Oniichan...you made it...we're together..."

for one moment everything is still

Ken now manipulated the soccer ball easily around the field with his feet, his injuries from the final clash with Schwartz no longer impeding his playing. As the sun shone down on the unusually warm early March afternoon, Ken noted with surprise the slender red-haired figure which casually leant against a cedar tree and eyed him with interest. 

Since the move to Kyoto a change come over Aya. The normally stoic expression began to crack dissolving occasionally into a smile or a laugh; the eyes softening whenever he proudly spoke of Aya-chan and her new life at nursing college in Osaka. Her long sleep hadn't effected her intelligence, and after a crash summer course she had passed the college entrance exams and was now safely living her life removed from the effects of Aya's work That simple fact seemed to be enough to keep the redhead content, although Ken knew that he wasn't happy to be separated from her.

Ken tore his eyes away from Aya; his gaze returning to the ball, the soccer-player felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks. 

What is he doing here?

***

Their new routine was unspoken but understood. Ken would go to the park afternoons with his soccer ball and Aya would follow, book in hand. As Ken played with the kids he coached, Aya would sit under the tall oak tree and read philosophy or poetry, or more often, pretend to read while watching the chocolate-haired boy laugh and run with the kids, looking innocent and content. Afterward, the pair would sit in the shade and talk, or lazily walk through the park simply enjoying their time together, slowly eradicating inhibitions within them both.

One afternoon in late March, as they walked through cedar trees and plum blossoms scented the warming air, the last barrier was crossed. 

***

Ken nervously looked over at Aya as the Porsche pulled into the lot. "If you want to go somewhere else..." He trailed off, wanting so much to please Aya, and not fully accepting why he wanted so badly to see the redhead smile. 

"It's perfect. My family..." Aya broke off, looking down quickly, then making eye contact with Ken. "My family used to go together to the park near our home look at the blossoms in the spring. I haven't made an effort to do so since..."

"We should go somewhere else." Ken quickly countered. "It's okay, really. There are dozens of places to go in this city, plenty of things to see -- perhaps a museum, yeah, or, um... a gallery! Or how about a picnic! Or, um..."

"Ken." Aya smiled at the nervousness in Ken's voice. "Ken, you didn't let me finish. I would enjoy staying. You're probably the only person I'd want to go see them with, now, other than Aya-chan."

Ken blushed from his ears to his toes, holding Aya's intense gaze.

***

They had stopped for a moment by a reflecting pool when Aya decided to break the tension which had been steadily building between them. Never one for beating around the bush, Aya stepped up behind Ken and drew the shorter boy into an embrace.

Ken sighed as he felt Aya's warm arms envelop him from behind. He leaned back, resting into the firm chest which rose and fell in nervous breaths which tickled Ken's neck.

"Ken." The arms slowly turned Ken around so that the shorter boy was staring up into deep pools of purple.

"Aya." Ken closed his eyes and placed his head in the crook of Aya's shoulder. He had never felt so warm, so safe. Safe in strong arms which were capable of such destruction, such vengeance, and now, such nervous tenderness. 

Then came the whisper, the voice velvety and smooth. "Ran. Call me Ran. Aya-chan can live for herself. Now Ran can live 

again--for you." 

Ken closed his eyes and tightened his arms around Ran's chest, not really believing what was happening, only knowing that he was flooded with a happiness he rarely felt since Kase's death.

"Ran. I'm glad--I'm glad you're here with me."

"So am I."

Ran smiled , his cheek resting on top of a mass of thick brown hair. There was no longer anything in the way of his happiness save his own barriers which were slowly crumbling.

the waves break, chaos ensues 

Ken burst into the parked trailer which was the new Koneko/mission room, breathless from having run from the flat he shared with the others. He had awaken just before noon and was surprised to find the flat empty -- normally he and Ran liked to wake early on mornings when Yohji and Omi had the first shift to spend some time alone together before lunch. When Ken had noticed that Ran wasn't in the flat, he assumed that he had come down to the shop for something or other. A quick glance around the trailer, however, found only Omi busy at the mini-kitchen counter and Yohji enjoying his lunch break lazily stretched out on the sofa, token cigarette dangling from his lips. 

Ken voiced the first question on his mind. "Where's Aya? Didn't he come in last night?"

"I don't know, I thought he would have been with you." Yohji smiled at the faint blush which rose to Ken's cheeks. He was happy for his teammates and their growing relationship, if not more than a little jealous at their obvious happiness. Ken was very lucky; when Aya chose a task he totally dedicated himself to it. If this relationship was his newest mission, Yohji knew that Ken would have a very devoted lover. 

"No, I haven't seen him since last night when he ran out to the market." Ken's voice sounded worried. "I fell asleep in my room right after the mission, and I assumed that he had come back and went to his room. But there was no sign of him this morning." 

Omi looked up from the peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches he was fixing up for lunch. "Hmm, that's not like Aya-kun."

Yohji sensed the fear creeping into Ken. "Ken, don't worry. We'll find him."

madness envelopes the calm

  
  


~~~`~,~@


	2. The Phoenix

  
  
  
  


Chapter Two: The Pheonix

  
  


"Kisama..." The curse was cut off by a fist making contact with a pale cheek. 

"Tsk, tsk...you ought to show a bit more respect to the one pulling your strings, hmm, boy?" 

Ran maintained eye contact with the apparent "leader" of the group, arms stretched overhead and restrained with cuffs which held him to the ceiling. He had grown numb from the repeated beatings and lashings, compounded by the constant torment of being suspended by his wrists. 

It had been a simple enough chore, walking to his car with the imported American cereal that he knew Ken loved--something sugary and containing copious amounts of pastel marshmallows--his mind full of the surprise he was planning for Ken and Aya-chan. A weekend holiday by the sea was exactly what they all needed, time to get away from everything and just be together, like a family.

Preoccupied, he didn't notice the men who had been watching him from the shadows, aiming a small dart at his neck. A precision hit and the assassin was down, dragged into his own car and driven away to the mercies of his unknown assailants. 

He'd awoken what he could only assume were hours later with a bucket of ice water splashing in his face. He was stripped and hanging from the ceiling, sore everywhere; sluggish from whatever drug was in the dart, but conscious enough to take stock of the situation, it quickly became apparent that he was helpless. His training as an assassin wasn't for nothing; he knew enough to remain calm, to regulate his breathing, to observe everything he could about his captors and his surrounds. 

What he saw was not comforting.

Various implements of torture were arranged throughout the windowless dim room which housed him and his captors. There were four of them, tall and well built; one casually swinging a chain and another holding the now empty bucket. Two of them were wearing sleeveless t-shirts and one was bare-chested, affording Ran a view of the identical tatoos which graced their upper right arms. A red bird surrounded by black flames. A phoenix.

All four smirked as they looked upon Ran with predatory lust. 

"Ken..." Ran whispered, finally allowing his head to fall against his chest. 

As the fist made contact, the contents of Ran's stomach worked their way upward, adding to the stench of the room. As the cuffs are released and his body is tossed to the floor, Ran knew he was too weak to resist. 

confusion sets in

"Fuck, it's been two days! We're assassins, we work for an organization with huge resources, we handle this kind of thing all the time! Why can't we find him?" The panic was clear in Ken's voice as he frantically paced behind Omi who was hunched over the computer. "Aya-chan called again-how much longer can I keep lying to her? There's only so many times he could be in the bathroom in one day!"

"Ken-kun, we're doing our best..." The younger boy sighed, trailing off. Despite his regularly genki demeanor, Omi knew that he couldn't offer any comfort to Ken, and that false optimism would only inflame Ken's temper.

Right on cue, Ken exploded, his fist landing on the desk dangerously close to the keyboard on which Omi was frantically typing, knocking over a can of soda. Omi gasped and lifted his laptop away from the onrushing sea of cola. 

  
  


"Well, our best isn't friggin' good enough! He could be lying in a gutter somewhere, or floating face down in the Kamo River for all the good our best is doing!" Ken's voice broke, his body shaking with sobs. Omi made a quick motion in his chair toward his teammate, but it was Yohji who caught Ken first, holding him close in a tight embrace.

"Kenken-we're trying. If you can't have faith in our best, have faith in Aya's. He's the strongest, he's the best of all of us. If anyone can get out of a sticky situation, it's him. Remember how he faced down those kids at the market for the last box of strawberry pockey?" Yohji smiled. "If Aya can handle a dozen rabid schoolgirls he can handle anything." Yohji's voice softened. "He survived a building sinking on top of him so he could be with you, Ken. He's not going to let anything come between you two now. Trust him."

the fates twist the knife

Omi yawned as he sat up, his cheek sore from falling asleep on the keyboard. He'd had next to zero luck finding anyone or organization who might be after Aya, other than Schwartz, and it wasn't clear if they were operational or not after their last meeting. Kritiker's latest communique also drew blanks, but Omi knew that their intelligence unit was on top of things, too. It was just hard waiting. 

Wandering into the kitchen past Yohji, who had camped out on the couch, he let out of yelp at the sight which greeted him through the window. A Porsche was parked in the alley behind the flat, the sole occupant slumped against the steering wheel and draped in a blood-stained blanket. 

"Yohji-kun!" Omi's voice was insistent but low. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Ken and see him fly into a panic at the sight of Aya.

"Nani?" Came the sleepy sounding reply. Yohji heard the bang of the back door and the pound of footsteps going down the steps at the rear of the building. Instinctively, he quickly followed.

The sight which greeted Yohji at the bottom of the steps was one which he would never forget. 

"Kami-sama..."

Omi was sitting on the pavement of the back alley, a naked and unconscious Aya laying wrapped in a stained ratty blanket. Wounds of every variety were bleeding or crusted over with days-old blood on almost every visible part of the slender body which was gaunt from exhaustion and obvious dehydration. Omi was trying to rouse the redhead while assessing the extent of the damage, checking for possible internal injuries. At first glance, it was obvious there were several broken ribs, possibly a punctured lung, large bruises, and numerous cuts, some of which were very deep. 

Omi looked up at Yohji, his voice calm and professional despite the tears which fell from his soft blue eyes. "Yohji-kun, get the medi-kit. Don't wake Ken-kun---he can't see Aya-kun like this."

Yohji nodded and swore, turning to retrieve the kit.

Omi sighed, gently cradling Aya's head in his lap, wondering, what they were going to do. He didn't think Aya would want to be taken to a hospital, but he also wasn't sure they could deal with injuries like this on their own. While removing Aya from the car, Omi had seen evidence that he had been more than just beaten by whoever had taken him. He knew that Aya wouldn't want that kind of injury poked over by strangers, to have his vulnerability exposed. 

While he waited for Yohji, Omi stroked Aya's red hair and swore to find whoever had beaten and raped his friend. They would pay for their sick pleasure with their lives. 

do they enjoy making you cry?

  
  


~~~`~,~@


	3. Silence

  
  


Chapter Three: Silence

  
  


[KEN]

There's a distinct type of sound that comes from those who are trying to be quiet. A low murmur of hushed voices, the slow sound of footsteps, the intermittent crashes and suppressed shouts as people accidently drop things in their hasty attempts to do whatever it is they're doing in silence. 

These noises, mixed with the sound of footsteps thudding up and down the back steps are what roused me from bed ungodly early this morning. Rolling over on my side, I hold a pillow over my ears to block out the dull sounds until it clicks. 

Ran! 

Since I'm up, my fear and my curiosity get the better of me; in my boxer shorts and t-shirt I rush into the living room, almost fainting at what I see.

Ran is on the sofa; alive. And by the looks of it, just barely. 

Leaning over him are a strange man and woman. The man is in the process of stitching a large gash on Ran's thigh; the woman is picking small pieces of gravel out of a cut on his side with a long pair of tweezers. Doctors...from Kritiker? They are both tight-lipped and focussed on their work, neither having noticed my entrance to the room. Omi and Yohji are more observant, both looking from the sofa to myself with concern and undisguised fear.

My breath is caught in my throat, my body shaking, my legs barely able to support my own weight. I want to scream, to cry, to kill whoever did this. Mostly I want to run to Ran's side and shake his shoulders, making him awaken. Instead, all I do is stand there, gaping like an idiot as the doctors finish up their work. 

When they go, an eerie sort of silence fills the flat, broken by a wrenching sob which breaks from my throat. He's just lying there, so still and so pale, his skin almost purple and his hair so limp. He's like a wax doll, or a...a corpse. Lifeless and cold-looking.

Through my tears I see Yohji coming toward me, arms outstretched. I collapse against his chest, and sob.   


  
  


[RAN]

"...careful."

"My god, they sure tore him up..."

"...bastards...kill them..."

"You should be in bed, Ken-kun!"

"...tell...Aya-chan?"

"Are you crazy?"

"...wake up, Ran...Ran...come back to me..."

  
  


Snatches of conversation make their way through the fog of drug-induced sleep. I am only aware of the sounds, the rise and fall of the hushed voices. They are sad, concerned, and tinted with...fear? Why? What had happened? 

There is warm darkness enveloping me, and I'm having trouble maintaining a straight thought. But something out there on the other side of the wall of blackness is keeping me grounded, letting those voices reach me . A warm hand over mine, a soft caress on the cheek, a tender whisper in my ear...."ai shiteru, Ran..."

***

As I open my eyes the first thing I see is Ken's head which rests on the pillow next to mine, and I can't really help the smile which takes over my face and the sight of him so peacefully sleeping in the dimness of my room. The sun leaks in between cracks in the blinds, casting a ray of light on his face, illuminating his subtle beauty. He's so darn cute, and every morning when I wake up next to him I silently give thanks. It's funny how things worked out for us, that in the middle of darkness and death a murderer like me would have a second chance, a chance to love and be loved. 

As I shake off the last traces of sleep I am keenly aware that my head feels very strange, and for some reason my limbs are very heavy and numb. In fact, I feel kind of numb everywhere, and I'm not sure why I'm in my room sleeping and not Ken's, or why he is on top of the covers fully clothed in the middle of the afternoon - and why the hell is there and IV stuck in my arm? A chill descends over me as I lay still and wrack my brain trying to remember if anything had gone wrong on the mission last night. It was a simple job: recover the files, take out the standard mad scientist, blow up the lab to destroy the evidence. We were in, out, and home by midnight, right?

A sudden burst of pain shoots up my left side and a flash of light and colour overtakes my mind as images, sounds, and smells from the last six days come rushing back...the mission, the corner store... the dart...the filthy cold room and the pain and the men...Oh, gods...

I shake my head and try desperately to fight down the vomit which is rising in my throat, the pain which is creeping into every inch of my body reminding me that this is not a nightmare and that I am already awake. How the hell did it happen? How was I caught so unaware, taken so easily? And how is it that after I was used like a toy I managed to get back home? 

Confusion mixes with fear as I look over at the still sleeping Ken. Only one thought now repeats itself: he saw me like that, he saw me after I had been beaten and used, he knows how weak I was, he knows...

I rip the IV from my arm and stumble out of bed, landing on the floor, throwing up on the smooth wooden boards.

  
  


[KEN]

I awake panting, and drenched with sweat, slightly shaking from the dream which has stalked me ever since Ran disappeared. I can never fully remember who or what the dream is about, but I know that the feeling of despair which follows me in my sleep is something I dread. 

Of course, a stupid dream is nothing compared to the real nightmare which has come crashing down upon us. It had been three days of watching them first patch up Ran, and then put Ran to bed, and of sitting by his side and holding his hand and praying to the God I once knew that he would wake up. 

I talked to Ran for most of it, telling him things I had never told him: stories about my childhood, about the parents and sister I could barely remember and the Mission in which I had grown up; about my hopes for a future with him away from all this pain and death; about the children I wanted to raise. I shooed out Yohji and Omi whenever they got too intrusive, and tactfully handled calls from Aya-chan. Okay, so maybe not to tactfully, but I did my best! I knew that Ran wouldn't want her to know anything about what had happened - hell, he wasn't even really comfortable with her knowing about us, let alone Weiss, or this. Finally, I crawled up on the bed next to him and permitted myself to go to sleep. 

Now, as my breathing slows, I feel a stirring in the bed next to me, and for the first time in six days my eyes meet beautiful violet ones. Ran, awake! He looks as awful as ever, but he's awake and that's all that matters. 

We look at each other for a few seconds, as if neither one of us knows what to say or do. Since he is just staring at me with a frighteningly empty gaze, I decide to go first. "Ran...you're awake! I thought...I mean, I..." My voice cracks on the words and I curse myself. Dammit, be strong! The last thing he needs is your blubbering! I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to begin again. "Ran, I'm so glad you're okay. I would have died if I'd lost you." I place my hand on his cheek and look deep into his eyes, trying to reach him through the pain and confusion I know he must be feeling. "I love you so much." A slight smile works its way across my face, wanting nothing more than to hear him say the same.

His beautiful eyes blink hard a couple of times and he wordlessly turns his head away from mine. Gods, did I do something wrong? I shift my position slightly, unsure of what to do. Shit, this is hard. Looking at his face I can see how gaunt he is, and I remember how uncomfortable it must be to get your food through a damn IV. 

The damn IV which was disconnected from Ran's arm. 

Sitting up, I notice that he's been up, or at least tried to get up. He was sick on the floor, and is probably embarrassed as hell right now, if he's even feeling anything through all those drugs we've been pumping into him. 

"You're probably starving, so, um, after I clean up in here I'll fix you some eggs or something, ok?" He settles back down in the pillows further but doesn't respond, so I smile at him and head out to the kitchen wanting to cry. Dammit. I thought that the lowest point in my life was slicing my bugnuks through Kase, whom I once had cared about as a brother and then known as a lover. 

I was wrong. It's seeing Ran laying on that bed, hurt and confused, bruised and broken. 

  
  


[RAN]

There really is only so long that silence will work with people who love you. For Ken, it's been a week. 

I haven't yet returned to work, but today I was feeling up to moving around the flat and taking care of myself. For the first time in the week since I'd woke up out of that drug-induced coma, I got up in the morning without prodding, I washed myself, and got dressed in a pair of real clothes and not the loose pyjamas I had been wearing. 

Since-it--happened, Ken had been taking care of me, performing all those annoying personal duties that I couldn't or didn't feel like doing, even taking the time to patiently comb my hair. I know that he did these things out of love, or perhaps sympathy rather than mere necessity, but it was still humiliating to be taken care of as if I were a child or an invalid.

I'd probably spoken about six civil words to him through all this. 

The longest conversation was the first day, after he cleaned up my mess and cooked up some endearingly horrible eggs and lay down on the bed next to me, looking exhausted. I knew that we had shared a bed for ages, but there was something--unsettling--about having him there, looking at me with eyes which had seen me so vulnerable, who knew how easily I could be hurt. It was like another voice was coming out of my body when I suddenly broke the silence between us.

"Leave."

"Nani? Ran, I don't want to go." He sat up on the bed, looking confused, hurt.

"I want to be alone...I want to sleep by myself."

He was shaking as he got up off the bed and quietly left my room. Since then, he has covered all my shifts at the Koneko, done my share of chores around the flat, cooked my meals, and took care of me without complaint. He has never tried to sleep in my room again.

  
  


***

Other than that brief interaction with Ken, the only other words I've said to anyone were to Manx, that same day. 

I could hear her and Birman outside my door, arguing with Yohji and Ken. Yohji seemed to think that I needed my space, while Birman and Manx was adamant that I be fully...well, for lack of a better word, "debriefed." Ken sounded as if he was somewhere in the middle, wanting to catch whoever was responsible and wanting me not have to face a firing squad. 

In the end, I think Ken won, as only Manx came in the room.

The conversation was brief. 

"Where were you that night, Abyssinian?" 

"Tanaka's Grocery. Cedar St. They were in the alley. Three of them, I think. They pulled me into my own car and drove me to some hellhole where they played their twisted fucking games and ..."

"And what?" She prodded, sounding both patient and insistent at once.

"And I don't remember. I was drugged, I kept blacking out. There was gunfire, and a bird...and then I was back here." 

Her pen stopped scrawling across the page for a moment, her eyes shifting up to meet mine.

"A bird? I don't understand. What kind of bird?" 

"A phoenix, rising from black flames. Those men, they wore the mark on their arms." I bring my fingers to rest on my upper right arm.

Silence. On the other side of the door, I could hear hushed voices of people who were obviously eavesdropping. Well, let them. They'd all be briefed in the next intelligence report, anyway.

"That's all I remember." 

"Well, it should be enough for now. We'll get intel started on that alley, and see if we can get some kind of trace on where they might have taken you, but without more concrete details..." she shrugged, getting up from the bed where she had sat and headed for the door. 

"Do try to get better, Abyssinian. Your team needs you." 

***

Now that I'm capable of taking after myself, I wonder how long the silent treatment will work with Ken. I have never really known him to be a patient man. As it is, I was surprised that he's waited a week to confront me.

It came that night, after supper.

I'm sitting at the table trying to act normally and trying not to notice how everyone has been staring at me all day, trying as hard as I am to act as if they aren't acting that everything is okay. It seems by some unspoken agreement that as soon as we are finished eating, Omi and Yohji head for the door, leaving Ken and I alone at the table. 

This time, it is his turn to break the silence. 

"So, I heard that Aya-chan called today. She's still doing well in school." It wasn't a question, really, more of an ice-breaker, I guess. If the situation hadn't been so serious, it would have been hilarious how careful he was being, how he was looking at me as if I were a bomb that might go off. 

  
  


He took a deep breath, and plunged ahead. "Ran, um, I know that this whole thing has been hard on you." I can feel myself tense, and try to relax--after all, I knew this was coming, didn't I? I knew that turning my head and keeping my silence would only work for so long, especially with Ken. 

The problem is, I also know that I'm not prepared to do anything else. 

I suppose that my stoic expression is what finally made Ken crack. He gets to his feet and glares down at me, his hands shaking. 

"Christ, Ran, why are you pushing me away? I'm trying my best! Talk to me!" His arms hang limply against his sides, his voice and eyes both filled with desperation and pain. Again, I don't answer. What does he really expect me to say? Does he think I can tell him about what happened? About being beaten and used? Does he think if I relive that in front of him it will somehow magically fix things? 

He seems to collect himself a bit as he meets my cold gaze. "Ran, you know that I love you, right? And you still love me? And that we can trust each other with anything?"

Hmm. Interesting, I hadn't really considered it like that. I mean, I know in my head that this is true, that we love each other, but I hadn't really been feeling too much of anything this past week. In all honesty, how can I love anyone, after that? After I feel so dead inside? And how can anyone love me, knowing how powerless and weak I am? I'm so weak that I can't protect Ken, I can't protect Aya-chan, I can't even protect myself!

Damn, I've got to say something. He's still standing there, peering down at me. I take a deep breath before speaking, hoping to placate him a bit.

"I've given my report to Manx, the necessary details are in there if you want to read them. My face looks good enough to go back to work. I'll cover my own shift tomorrow. Thanks for your help."

I push back my chair and slowly walk back to my room, leaving Ken in the kitchen, with that crestfallen look on his face. Well, this is my problem, and I can't help him if he wants to make it his. I just have to deal with it myself.   


[KEN]

I'm not really a stranger to rape. When I was a teenager, a girl from the Mission had been attacked by some street punk who used to be her boyfriend. She came home that night crying and flung herself on my bed, a nervous wreck. We took her to the doctor who cleaned her up and made sure she wasn't pregnant, to the police, who questioned her about the asshole who had hurt her, and to the nuns, who urged her to pray. 

It was me in whom she confided, telling me what had happened, how used and weak she felt. I remember being so scared, though, that I would say the wrong thing that I went to our priest and asked for advice. There were stages, he'd said. Keiko would go through them, and she would draw strength from God and move on to have a normal life with a husband and children. As long as I was her shoulder to cry on, I was fulfilling my role as a dutiful friend, which was all that could be expected of me.

Keiko wound up in a gutter in Sapporo within the year, drug overdose. 

Who was to blame? Keiko, for not having the strength to move on? The boyfriend, for hurting her? The nuns, who prayed for her but couldn't understand her? Or the scared fifteen year old boy who was afraid of the dark and couldn't save her from herself? 

I think when I saw Ran sitting at that kitchen table, I could see a bit of Keiko. There was the same self-loathing and doubt, the same nervous jumpiness and haunted eyes. 

But whereas she made me her confidant and placed her trust in me, he's shown me the utter futility of confronting him. At every turn I keep drawing the same blanks.

Despite our communal efforts to draw him out, Ran has pretty much slipped back into his normal routine-if you consider "normal" how they were before Ran and I were together, before Ran started to crack that blank mask he wore in Tokyo when Aya-chan was still sleeping. He has returned to work at the mobile shop, dutifully calls Aya-chan, and basically is the same Aya we used to know, a million years ago when he was a brick of ice; before he found his smile, his laugh. 

Now, the days keep marching on in silence, and he would have us believe that he has healed inside and out. But I can see the hurt, the pain in his eyes; the eyes the used to be open to me and have now shut me out. Does he really think I can't see? Does he think I don't know? I've seen it before, damnit, and I couldn't save her. And once again, I see the one I should be able to protect slipping away from me. 

Perhaps the problem is that he doesn't know. Doesn't know the depths to which he has been wounded. He thinks that he can carry everything, that he is strong, that he can't break. That he already hasn't broken.

  
  


~~~`~,~@


	4. The Rush of Guilt

  
  


Chapter Four: The Rush of Guilt

  
  


[RAN]

"Abysinnian? Abysinnian? NOW!"

"Nani?" My mouth is dry, my thoughts colliding in confusion. 

"Aya, MOVE!" Omi's hig-pitched voice cracks though the earpiece, insistent and forceful. Insisting what? I try to find my way through the fog which has descended around me, my eyes shut tight, my hands shaking slightly. My grip on the katana wavers as I struggle to pull myself out of the dingy room, away from the smell of blood and vomit and sex and the sharp memory or a soaring bird...

...my thoughts are mercifully interrupted by the sound of gunfire and the shouts of Omi coming not through the earpiece but approaching rapidly on foot. Wait a minute--gunfire? 

The mission! 

"Kuso..." I position myself with my sword, waiting to take down the target before Ken sets off the charges which Omi has placed inside. Omi runs past me, a flash of black heading for Yohji's position. 

My heart is pounding, my head reeling as I feel the approach of the target, flanked by a security guard. Closer...closer...from the shadows I leap with my sword, cutting through the guard, blood spraying on my coat. All the rage I feel inside, all the shame at my weakness seems to find and outlet as my second victim hits the ground...

Shion's sword falls from my hand with a clatter as I am overcome with nausea. Vomiting on the pavement, I am revolted at the thought: I enjoyed it. 

I enjoyed killing those men! Not because I was helping society, not because I was earning money to keep Aya-chan in school, but because it made me feel strong. I had betrayed everything that I had been taught before that sword was placed in my hands. I had betrayed not only my old master, but myself, and the person I tried to be for Ken and Aya.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I glance upward and meet a sea of aqua surrounded by chocolate locks. Ken. His hesitant eyes are full of concern, love, and...fear? Yes, fear. It's an expression I have rarely seen in his eyes. Is he afraid of me? Does he know how much I enjoyed breaking that flesh with my sword, the rush I gleaned from the power I held in my hands?

His hand is resting on my back making smooth, cyclical motions. He leans over and breaths gently in my ear, whispering, "It's okay, Ran. I understand." No, he doesn't! How can he? 

Shaking, I realize that he is afraid for me, not of me. 

  
  


[KEN]

When Aya leapt from the shadows and brought down the guard, my breath had caught in my throat. Aya - it's not really possible for me to think of him as "Ran" when he is killing - was laughing. I don't even think he realized that the crazed sound was coming from his body, but as he slashed his way through the two men his entire body shook with it, his eyes flashing with hot emotions. Pleasure? Pain? Or some perverse mixture of both?

From my position I saw him drop his sword and lean over, supporting himself against the brick wall, vomiting on the sidewalk. I lost no time joining him at his side, trying to calm him, to steady his shaking body. I blamed myself for this, of course -- it was too soon for him to be on a mission, but I let it happen.

Admittedly, at the time it didn't seem like such a bad idea. Ran had been back at work in the shop for a couple of weeks, and his body had healed. When Manx brought us the tape she didn't bat an eyelash at asking Ran if he was in, and there had been a sort of desperation to the way he had readily responded. It was as if he was letting us all know that he needed the chance to take his life back. I couldn't really try to stop him. 

As his breathing slowed, he stood and picked up his sword, looking down at the target and the guard. Again, that strange glint was back, mingled with something else, as unmistakable as it was present.

It's strange. If I didn't know Ran, really know him, I would swear that he had enjoyed killing those people. 

But that wouldn't make any sense, would it? 

***

He was silent on the way back to the flat, sitting as far away from me as possible in the backseat of Yohji's car. He gazed out the window, his face blank, unresponsive. 

Not that this is very unusual, even under "normal" circumstances. Ran, like all of us, always has had problems with taking life. It's one of the first things I noticed, really noticed, about him when he first joined us - the way he would firmly grasp his sword after each mission, the vacant look in his eyes, the internal struggle that I'm not sure he even knew he was waging following each kill. 

He intrigued me from the start. I mean, what kind of guy wields a sword with such deadly precision as he casts merciless thrusts into people night after night, and then sits cradling his weapon as though he was apologizing to it? Or is he apologizing to himself? To the person he once was, or perhaps to the person he can never be again? 

He was, and still is, a mystery. Only tonight, as he sits holding the sword, I know there is something else. Not the usual guilt for the taking of life that we all feel for doing what we must, but the air of true guilt, and shame for his weakness which allowed him to act tonight with such abandon.

I sigh before I can stop myself. If only he'd talk to me. 

***

After we return to the flat, Ran looking more rattled than I have seen him in a long time, I leave my bedroom door open a crack, a silent invitation. I would never hurt his pride by telling him that I know he is afraid spending the nights alone, that I hear him pacing through the flat when he thinks we are all asleep. 

Every night through the thin walls I can hear his soft footsteps, the creaking of his bed as he tosses on the mattress. And later, always the same soft cries as he wars with the invisible demons that haunt his dreams. 

I want to hold him, to cradle his head on my shoulder and whisper in his ear. To hold him and his raw emotions close. To let him know that it's not a mark of shame to be scared, to be confused, to need someone. Especially not with our job; especially not with what he's been through. To let him know that he can stop being a damn statue and just be a human being like the rest of us.

Maybe if he sees my door open he will know that he's not alone, that there is some place to go when the nightmares catch him. He hasn't come to me yet, and I can't go to him. So I lie here, waiting to hear his cries, hoping I don't drift to sleep before he does. And then it hits me.

Perhaps it's time I stopped waiting. 

  
  


[RAN]

The humid air coats my skin, only the gentle breeze making the night bearable. I'm unable to sleep after what happened on the mission, so I'm trying to pass the time until daybreak, trying to push off the last of the confusion which I feel after the twisted rush I had tonight. The alley behind the flat where I've sought some silence is dark and comforting, the shadows on the brick walls mirroring the darkness I feel inside. 

Try as I might, I cannot think of a deep philosophical analogy for the rats which scurry about in the corners. 

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, the cigarette feeling strange and foreign between my lips. Filthy habit, but I figure there has got to be something to it if Yohji is never seen without one stuck between his lips. The smoke fills my lungs and I cough in shock, flinging the cigarette to the ground. Bad idea.

I am, however, even more shocked to hear a sudden laugh inside my head. 

*Those things'll kill you. If I don't, that is*

I whirl around, the nasal voice in my head catching me off guard. "What the hell?"

*Aww...I'm offended! You don't remember me?*

Shit. "Schwartz."

*Bingo. Although perhaps not quite the same Schwartz you remember. You could say that we're under new management.*

I looked around, expecting to see the redhead leaning against a building watching me from the shadows, that psycho with the knife fetish at his side. I see nothing but darkness. Dammit. The telepath could be anywhere from here to Tokyo. 

"What the hell do you want?"

*To have some fun. I'm bored. *

Great. I'm generally irritated at the sudden intrusion by this cocky bastard who believes that he can just play with me whenever he wants to. I am, however, also keenly aware that I don't have my sword. Fuck. That means that I've got to get out of this without getting killed. 

"It's too bad you don't know how to stay dead. I'd have thought you'd have been food for the fished by now. What am I, your entertainment?"

*Pretty much. Besides, I figure after your little "falling out" with your cute lover you could use a bit of distraction, too...*

I am suddenly overcome with the urge to punch his lights out. How dare he talk to me about Ken! And what did he mean, "falling out?" So we're not really talking, but...it's for the best, and he'd do well to keep his damn nose out of it!

"Where are you?"

*Find me. Then the fun will start...unless you'd rather I go find Kenken instead. *

Bastard. I could practically hear the smirk that was plastered on the redhead's face. 

His voice led me through the shadows to a familiar oak tree next to the game field where Ken practices soccer. Leaning casually against the tree as I once had is Schuldig, blunt and intrusive as ever. 

*You've had an interesting time since our last meeting, haven't you?*

The expression on his face lets me know he knows everything. I feel rage boiling in me at the thought of this guy poking around in my head and viewing my memories. I also find it very difficult to feel strong under his emerald gaze. 

*Yes, kitty. I know all your secrets. And I must say that you've got one of the most fucked up heads I've had the pleasure of invading...Take tonight, for instance. I mean, is that the true meaning of Weiss? To gain a power rush from taking down people? Tsk, tsk...there's other ways of feeling strong, you know.

/"Tsk, tsk...you ought to show a bit more respect to the one pulling your strings, hmm, boy?" /

I swallow hard, unnerved by the silent voice, and afraid of where he is going with his mind; he's dragging up echos from the past, things I don't want him to see...

*I also find it interesting that you and Siberian seem to be on the outs. Of course, it's for the best, you know.*

"What the hell are you getting at?" I force the words out from between clenched teeth. 

He shifts his posture and makes his way slowly and confidently toward me, his body leaning closely to mine. For some reason my feet feel rooted to the ground, my body not wanting to leave his side. His voice, his real voice, comes in a low whisper. 

"I can see how much you want him...but do you think that he'll want to be with you after what they did to you? And even if he does, can you do that to him? Taint his purity with your filth?" His voice changes, taking on a richer tone, losing some of its nasality. "I, on the other hand, cannot be stained. I'm ruined already..."

His breath is hot on my ear, his hand pressed against my back, pulling me closer to him.

I roughly shove him backward, only one thought running through my mind, a thought I cannot voice. *I won't be used again.* He catches it anyway, as I knew he would.

"Ah, but what if I'm the one who wants to be used?" *I know you want someone and that you are afraid of being with Ken now; I know that when you can't hurt your precious love anymore you'll call for me.*

The thought is as sickening as it is alluring. "Never."

"We'll see, kitten. Just remember - I expect nothing from you. You can't break my heart. I wouldn't be so quick to say the same about little Siberian."

He turns, disappearing into the humid night, leaving my thoughts in chaos.

  
  


~~~`~,~@

  
  


Fujimiya Ran is a complete nutcase. 

I know, I know. This coming from a guy who hangs out with a psychotic knife-happy Irishman, a seriously unbalanced telekenetic teenager, and the biggest anal-retentive bastard this side of...well, anywhere. My world is a virtual cornucopia of insanity. But Ran? This guy is fucked, in more ways than one. 

He kills for a sister he's too afraid to see, cradles a sword he regrets wielding, hides from a deliciously fuckable boyfriend, and generally shuts himself off from every source of light and life within his reach.

He mopes for the lifestyle he's chosen, weeps inside for getting fucked over by people on whom he can't exact revenge, and mourns those fuckwits of a family that Taketori took the liberty of disposing from this world. Oh yes, the Fujimiyas are best left in the ground, along with whatever sainted delusions one might hold about them. Pity Ran doesn't know that. 

I stop on a park bench and peek into his thoughts one last time before leaving the park and heading back out into the blade-runner like landscape of the urban Japanese night.

"Watch him" you said. 

Crawford, thank-you. This is going to be quite a ride.

  
  


~~~`~,~@


	5. Sin

Chapter Five: Sin

  
  


[KEN]

Butterflies are flittering around in my stomach as I sit nervously on the edge of Ran's bed eyeing the clock. 1:32...1:33...1:34...Where the hell is he? He sure as hell isn't out clubbing with Yohji or at headquarters with Omi. I'd slipped into his room around midnight, expecting to find him tossing and turning in his bed as usual, having decided once and for all that if he couldn't come to me, I'd go to him - after all, it's been almost two months now? Two months since I'd first discovered he was gone, since he was returned to us broken. Two months since I'd seen him smile, heard his laugh; since he'd touched me or I'd touch him. It'd become as if "he and I" never were, and I had to let him know that I was still here for him, even if he wasn't ready to talk about things.

My heavy eyelids snapped open at the sound of soft footsteps approaching the door. This is it...Ran...

The light flicks on to reveal beautiful red hair and violet eyes which look confused, lost. He stands still, staring at me as if I doesn't understand why I am here. I am overcome with the urge to go to him, embrace him tightly. To run my hand over his hair and kiss his cheek and tell him that everything is all right.

"Ran." I know my voice sounds awkward, hesitant. "Ran, it's been awhile since we were together, just the two of us, and I thought that we could..."

"Fuck?" He finishes my sentence with bitterness, spitting the word at me. I am shocked by the force in his voice, and even more so by the fact that he thought I'd come here for sex. I wanted to help him, dammit! Before I recover, he continues. 

"What, you thought that the others were out so you could slip in here unnoticed and have a go? Tired of waiting? If you want it that much, why not go visit Yohji? I'm sure he'd be willing, unless he's decided to try monogamy with Omi. But then, you never know, the two of them might invite you to join in."

His icy tone cuts me like a knife, leaving me shaking as I slowly rise to my feet. I don't even stop to consider what he said about Yohji and Omi, as unnerving as the thought is.

"Ran, that's not why - that's not what I want. I came here for you, because I, I..." The right words escape me, my confidence slipping away under his glare. I keep reminding myself that it's just too soon, that he needs more time, that I have to be patient and understanding, no matter what. I have to do this right, for him, for myself, for Keiko.

"Leave. Now." I flinch at the words. Leave? My feel remain firmly planted to the floor. 

"I don't want to. I want to be here for you-" He cuts me off.

"I want you to go. Don't you get it? I don't want you. I'm sick of this whole thing, this stupid game we were playing. I'm sick of you hanging around me all the time like a lost puppy, looking at me as if I were made of glass. I'm sick of us." His eyes flicker downward momentarily, then rejoin mine. "Leave me alone. Go!"

Through my tears I see flashes of Ran, smiling, laughing. Through my sobs, I blurt out the only words I can. 

  
  


[RAN]

His fists are clenched into fists, his voice insistent. "I love you, Ran! I love you, no matter what - I can't leave you!"

I can't hear this. I can't hear his desperate proclamations of love. Why is he so blind? Why is he clinging to the mere shell of someone who no longer exists? I'm not the person he used to love! I feel the anger rising in my chest, and see the pained look upon his face. It would be so easy to just push him away, to free him. 

When I first saw him in my room, sitting nervously on my bed, all I could think about was how beautiful he was, how much I wanted him. His rich brown hair fell over wide eyes which were deep and intense, his cute pyjamas not hiding his firmly sculpted body. I wanted to throw him back on my bed and take him right there. And then it hit me... *Do you really want to taint his purity with your filth?*...Schuldig, the bastard, was right. Ken deserved better than me! I had to let him know that, but I also knew the baka wouldn't listen. Pain and rage and shame mingled inside until I wasn't even aware of what I was doing, it was as if I was outside myself, watching someone else push Ken away. 

As my fist explodes on the side of his face, I know that what hurts him most is the betrayal. I have destroyed my promise to never hurt him; to always love him in honesty. He is crumpled on the floor, tears running down his cheeks as he presses his right hand to his bruised jaw and looks up at me with a questioning and confused gaze. But even after trying to drive him away, I see it in his eyes. 

// "You don't have to worry about me leaving you - you're stuck with me, koi!"

"Promise?" 

"Hai. Ai shiteru, Ran." //

He can't hate me. He will always keep his promise, he will always love me, even as I beat him, yell at him, kick him, order him to leave me alone. He will always cling to the promise he made, even if it is through tears I have made him shed; even if his vows are spoken through lips bruised and bleeding by my hand. I stop kicking him and look down at his unconscious form. He knows me too well. 

I lean over, gently gathering his broken body in my arms. He is lighter than I expect. I lay him down on his mattress, removing his clothes and surveying the map of bruises trailing from his jaw, down his chest and abdomen to his thighs. I feel nothing but emptiness as I retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom and treat his bruises and cuts, knowing that tomorrow morning he will hurt like hell and be wishing I'd finished the job.

As I leave the room, I remember to unplug his alarm clock. I'll cover his shift in the morning. It's the least I can do for him.

  
  


[KEN]

The fear rises in my chest as I stand firm, telling him I love him, pleading with him to love me.

It's no good.

"Ken, didn't I tell you to leave me alone?" He steps forward, a cold predatory gaze present in his deep eyes. "I told you I don't care about you, that it's over - can't you accept that? Or are you so pathetic that you need to stalk someone who doesn't want you?"

I swallow hard, chocking back a sob. This isn't right. This isn't Ran talking, this isn't him! 

// "I used to live for revenge, I used to exist only in my anger and hate. Now I live for Aya-chan, and for you, to make you both happy. I'll never hurt you, Ken. I promise."

"I know, Ran."

"Ai shiteru, KenKen. Forever." 

Plum blossoms swirl in the air, a single petal landing on Ran's shoulder. // 

He continues to near me. I stand my ground, even though I can see his fists tightening and can feel the violent electricity which cracks in the air around him. Fuck. I can't leave him, I promised I'd never leave him, never hurt him...I can only pray he doesn't kill me. 

The first punch catches me slightly off guard as his fist makes contact with my face, not my gut as I had hoped. I fall to the ground, choking on blood, my head reeling as he kicks me repeatedly in the chest. 

"I told you...to leave me...to forget me...are you so stupid that you'd take this and come back for more? Are you, Kenken?"

His voice is a sneer; his glare empty, cold, homicidal. And aimed at me. I'd only ever been on the receiving end of his rage a few times, but more than enough to know that it's a place I never wanted to be again. Through the pain all I can cling to is the hope that maybe his anger isn't at me, but at those bastards who hurt him. Maybe despite his fists and curses he still loves me. Maybe...maybe he doesn't mean to break his promise. Maybe beating the shit out of someone he loves will be enough to knock some sense into him.

I slip into unconsciousness, awakening mid-afternoon the next day feeling as if I'd been dumped off a cliff. 

***

I make my way slowly to the lounge, cringing at the pain which shoots up my side at each step. Looking in the mirror this morning was a major shock; the bruises covering my right cheek, the purplish puffiness under my eyes, the swollen broken lips all reminding me of what Ran had done. As I stared at my broken reflection I was somewhat surprised to notice that someone had carefully cleaned and treated the bruises on my face and had bandaged my side. 

I hooted at the image of Ran beating me and then tenderly dressing the wounds with the same hands that had inflicted them.

Making my way into the kitchen I hear a loud gasp and the sound of a glass clattering to the floor. Yohji. Great. Wasn't it his shift this afternoon? No, it was mine -double shift today with Omi. Ran must have covered it.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Yohji is openly gaping at me, the shocked expression making it clear that it was, in fact, Ran who had put me to bed and patched me up after I had passed out. My mind races, searching for an answer that won't give away the truth. 

"Well, I uh...had an accident. Coaching soccer yesterday. I ran into goalpost-you know me, always doing something dumb." I force out laughter which makes me cry out in pain as my wounded chest protests.

"A goalpost. Right." There was a familiar blaze in Yohji's green eyes which I have only seen him wear when someone he cares about is in danger. "A goalpost punched your lights out and kicked your chest in." He stood there openly questioning me, his tone obvious that he knows I'm bulshitting him. Now what? "Ken, you're business is yours-but I think as a friend I deserve to know who....No. No Goddamn way. Fuck!" His sudden change makes it clear that my pleading eyes have given everything away. He turns quickly, grabbing his coat and slamming the kitchen door behind him. I hear the thunder of feet going down the steps before I realize where he is going.

I numbly sit down at the kitchen table, open up the newspaper to the sports section, and ignore the tears which are streaming down my face.

  


[RAN]

"4000 yen? I don't know-it's a bit more than I had in mind."

"Then leave. I have customers waiting." I know I'm being rude, but who cares? Ken is at home sporting some new bruises and hopefully a new hatred for me. Our relationship is over, and at least I can go through the motions of living knowing that he will be safe from me. Try as I might, however, the thought doesn't really bring me much comfort. 

"Hmm!" The short lady with the overbearing perfume stalks away, looking miffed. Fine by me.

"Aya-kun!" comes Omi's admonishing voice.

"Omi, I have no patience for..." My thought is interrupted by a familiar blonde figure charging toward me, eyes ablaze and hands clenched in tight fists. 

"Inside. Now" He hisses in my ear, venom dripping from each word. I numbly nod, knowing why he is here and not wanting to have this out in front of a score of schoolgirls. As we enter the mobile Koneko, my insides are like ice, my gaze empty as I turn to face him. Without warning, his fist pounds into my gut, making me bend over double and retch. I really should have expected it; Yohji is, after all, a man of honour.

He leans over me, his voice deadly. "I once told that guy to have faith in you because you were the best of all of us. Now I'm taking back every word. Christ, Aya, do you think that you're the only one who hurts? Who bleeds inside? Can't you see the haunted look in Ken's eyes as he waits for you to come back to him? And what do you give him for all his pain? A black eye? Maybe some cracked ribs? Because why, because you hurt, because you're in pain? You selfish sonnofabitch!" 

I feel myself shaking under the weight of his words and under my own anger. How the hell can he possibly understand? Hurting Ken like that was the least selfish thing I've ever done! I can't let him be with someone like me!

As my thoughts run in circles of confusion I hear myself reply: "It's none of your goddamn business."

"Listen you bastard. You touch him again and I'll..." I cut him off, making my resolve clear.

"Threaten me and I will kill you." 

Yohji stops his threat and backs away, his eyes narrowed. The words sound strange coming from my lips. I feel detached, as if I'm only watching this happen, not actually doing it. Now actually beating Ken, not threatening Yohji, who is only doing what is right. 

The worst of it is, part of me can actually see myself raising my katana over that blonde head. It's the part of me which needs strength, the part that needs to be alone and needs to push everyone away; the part that I feel is steadily taking control of my life. It's the part of me that knows that I am only a murderer. 

The part that knows that I don't deserve Ken. That I never did. 

***

That night, I get a call from Aya. Damn.

"Ran, what's wrong?" Aya-chan has been calling more frequently lately, probably owing to the fact that I have been calling her less and less. I sigh slightly, not really sure how to handle her. She's grown to be as persistent as myself, and as overprotective as Ken...Ken...dammit, I don't need to think about him now!

"Nothing." I silently curse myself, knowing that she caught the slight wobble in my voice.

"Ran" Her normally cheery voice has taken on a seriousness I have rarely heard. It sends a chill down my spine to think about how much she sounds like myself. 

"Ran, we've been separated for a long time, but I can still read you like an open book. I know that there is something, something big, that you aren't telling me."

Horror floods me as I think of her ever finding out about my life with Weiss, my blood-stained hands, and my ultimate moment of weakness. My shame. "Aya, please...don't. Don't ask-I can't..."

"No! Not this time! I never pressed you about your work, but I know that we aren't as comfortable as we are on your wages from a mobile flower shop! I never questioned your stories about how you got all those awful scars, or about your relationship with Ken-kun, or told you about how frightened that cold look in your eyes makes me. But I won't let you hide from me on this! Talk to me!"

For the first time since my attack tears flow freely as I hear the desperation in her voice, her innocent belief that if I confide in her she will be able to somehow fix things. But I know now sure as when I sent her away to school that all I can do is ruin her.

"Ran?" 

"Gomen, Aya-chan..."

I rest the receiver in the cradle and head to my room, feeling even more hollow inside. 

Through my tears, I stop, looking toward Ken's room.

  


~~~~`~,~@


	6. A Bloodless Death

Chapter Six: A Bloodless Death

  
  
  
  


[KEN]

There is a circle of them; all clad in black uniforms, the kind which used to frighten me as a child when I first arrived at the Mission. They tower above me, as they did then, only now their faces are not filled with pity at the plight of an innocent orphan child, but with sorrow and anger at the murderer I have become. The circle of clergy seems to suddenly widen, and I see that I am no longer alone in the centre, but am standing between Kase and Ran. To my left is the first person I truly loved, who no doubt awaits me on the other side to which he was sent by my hand. To my right is another killer who I now love with my whole bloodstained self.

"Kase? Ran? What's going on?" I try not to sound as panicked as I feel, but how could I be anything else? Ran looks up at me for a second, his eyes sad. Neither he nor Kase speak. Their eyes are downcast, their faces somber--we stand together accused and condemned, sinners bound for an eternity together in hell.

The silence is broken by Kase. "Don't you know, Ken? You should. You were the one who brought us to this. You brought me to shame with our sinful relationship, you led me to jealousy and corruption and then sent me to death. But that wasn't enough for you! You then had to turn to a fellow killer with whom you've mocked the purity of love. And when he needed you most, when you could have redeemed some of your sins, you weren't there. Now he is as dead inside as I." 

I shake my head wordlessly, scared and confused. Ran and Kase slowly fade, leaving me alone, surrounded by those who raised me and had faith in me. I look the ground under the weight of their stares and cry. Above me, an echo sounds throughout the room, the voice of a young girl long dead: "You didn't save me, Ken. I trusted you..."

Because you see, I failed them all. Keiko, Kase, Ran, and ultimately, those who taught me to love God and fellow man. 

  
  


[RAN]

His door is cracked open, as if he is inviting me in. He has silently invited me in every night since I so painfully wounded him by saying that I wanted to sleep alone; and is inviting me in even after I beat him. This is the only time I have given in.

I ease the door open, praying it doesn't creak, praying he doesn't hear me as I move toward the bed. He is curled on his side, his head turned down to his knees, twitching slightly. Chocolate locks fall forward covering his shut eyes, his soft moans the only sound in the dark room. Funny, I never remembered Ken having nightmares. 

I lean down, brushing his hair aside with one hand, while the other rests on his pyjama-clad shoulder. It's been so long. Just one kiss. As my lips graze his warm forehead, he stirs, a small sigh escaping from perfect lips. Warm brown eyes flicker open, meeting my empty purple ones. 

"Aya?" He sounds sleepy and confused. 

  
  


[KEN]

I am pulled out of the darkness by a cool hand gently brushing the hair away from my forehead, another resting on my shoulder. A soft sigh as warm breath tickles my face and hot lips brush against my forehead. 

"Aya?" I know my voice sounds shaky, uncertain. The truth is, I'm not sure through the painkillers if this is real, or an illusion. Has he come back to me? 

It's almost too much to hope for.

No. When I meet his eyes its like day turning to night; the stare becoming empty, cold. He roughly jerks his hand away and staggers backward, as if he is just now realizing where he is and what he is doing.

"Why are you here?" Has he come to kill me? To talk? Not bloody likely. If only he'll open up to me, if only he'll stay...there's so much I want to say to him, so much he needs to hear. Aya...Ran..I have caught him off guard. And then I notice the wet streaks trailing down his cheeks. 

  
  


[RAN]

I stagger backward, my hand flying from his shoulder in a quick gesture. He looks hurt, unable to judge what I want, unable to sense that not even I know what I want. 

"Why are you here?" He's uncertain, his voice blending fear and confusion with hope. Why the hell am I here? He suddenly looks beautiful in his vulnerability, the smallness of his form on the bed, the bruises marring his perfect face...

Wait a minute...bruises? Did I...? Fuck!

"Ken." I quickly turn, taking short, shallow breaths. I feel like my chest is going to explode. What the hell is going on? I love Ken! Don't I? I have never felt more confused in my life. I quickly leave his room and head to the front door, grabbing my trench coat on the way. Suddenly, the apartment feels very small. 

As strange as it seems, there was only one place I wanted to be, other than at Ken's side. With the one person who knew how empty I was, and who wouldn't care. Who I could use without hurting, because he wouldn't expect anything from me. With the one person who could understand why I needed to push everything and everyone away.

*Schuldig.* 

"I know you're nearby."

  
  


[KEN]

The door clicks shut as he leaves in a swirl of confusion. The emptiness which remains is sharp and final.

  
  


~~~~`~,~@

  
  


[RAN]

He is standing by the window as I enter the room. I drove all morning looking for him, chasing his words in my mind until they led me to an out-of-the way tasteless "love hotel." A fitting place for my next sin. The hotel room is small and dingy, the bed narrow and the sheets probably not changed since the last customers made use of it. I don't care, and neither does he. 

His jade eyes look me over with a slight curiosity, his mind speaking directly to mine. *Well, well. The Kitty come slinking back to me. I thought you needed no one, Aya-liebe*

*Smug bastard.* I advance toward him, anticipating hearing that nasal voice scream under me.

"I heard that. Now are you going to tell me why you're here? Or can I just assume that you realized you needed me? "

I stop, my eyes flashing with anger and pent up passion.

"I'm here because I need no one, least of all you. I'm here to use you, to take what I can get, and to leave you empty." Against my will, my thoughts continue. * It's the only way I can feel...*

*...alive?* "I understand, Ran." A slight smile.

"Don't call me that." 

I reach out and pull the orange-haired man toward me in a fierce embrace, ravaging his mouth with mine. His warm mouth is cigarettes and spices, so different from the toothpaste and sweetness taste of Ken. 

I break off the kiss to start removing his clothes, tearing that stupid green jacket he is always wearing and flinging the ugly yellow headband to the floor. He laughs and repays me in kind, ripping off my trench coat and breaking some of the buckles in the process before throwing it to the floor. We fall together, tumbling to the narrow bed. The springs creak loudly under our collective weight. 

My breathing is rapid and irregular, my chest rising and falling against his. I close my eyes and, for a moment, I'm in bed with Ken on a lazy Sunday afternoon, the gentle aqua eyes smiling up into mine as he tells me about his latest soccer practice or patiently listens to me discuss the latest book I'd read. We'd lay like that for hours, our hearts pressed together, our eyes locked, our bodies as one. My eyes fling open as I push such thoughts to the side. Forgetting all that is the reason I'm here, isn't it?

Beneath me now are deep green eyes which bore straight into me, surrounded by a halo of blazing hair. His features are softer up close, and fore an instant he seems fragile and vulnerable, so like Ken but so different...

All thoughts of guilt fly from my head as I feel his hardness press up against mine. He places his hands on my ass and grinds our hips together, making us both groan as I claim his mouth. We break apart long enough to rip off our remaining clothes, and as he lays on his stomach beneath me I somehow catch a snatch of his thoughts.

*...gods, I need this...* Hmm. So do I. 

I cover his body with mine and place myself at his entrance, not caring if I hurt him, only needing to possess him. It is rough and hard, like a rape from both sides, and for a few stolen moments, we can let out our pain by abusing each other. 

Afterward, I am still empty, cold. And as I dress myself I know for the first time without a doubt. Ran is dead.

*Dead and buried, liebe.* He exhales smoke in my direction from his spot on the bed. 

I gather my torn coat and leave the room slamming the door behind me. And as I drive away, I can hear Schuldig's voice echoing in my head. 

*Dead and buried.*

It doesn't matter what I do now. I'm not Fujimiya Ran, the innocent boy who had a family or the man who tried to love Ken as he deserved to be loved. I'm not Aya, a name given to a necessary tool of vengeance, now taken back by the girl for whom it was destined. There's only me, now. I'm nothing.

I peel out of the parking lot, not really aware of where I'm going. It doesn't matter. So long as I'm alone.

  
  


~~~~`~,~@


	7. Interlude: Schwartz

Interlude: Schwartz

  
  


Schuldig was bored. It had been two days since the last encounter with his kitten; his body protesting the unwanted break from Aya's attentions. Temporary, he reminded himself, this is only temporary. He'll call for me again. He won't be able to help himself. 

The pair had been frequenting various by-the-hour establishments throughout the city for about two weeks now, and trying very hard to keep their late-night liaisons a secret. Or at least Schuldig had--it wouldn't really do for Crawford to know about this latest game. Schuldig honestly didn't think that Aya would care if Siberian found out about their little affair, considering that he didn't seem to care about anything. Aya's mind was always an intrigue; thoughts coherent one moment and foggy the next. 

It had been tempting at first, to touch those confused thoughts and twist them, perhaps nurturing that once-gleaned rush of killing or tapping into the tensions between Aya and Balinese. Just a slight nudge, and he could completely shatter the fragile mind, or push the redhead toward carrying out the dark thoughts that lurked inside. Over time, however, something strange had happened, something slightly...unsettling. 

While he had originally been amused by Aya, there was something else which touched him with each encounter. Perhaps it was the almost child-like sense of fragility resonating around the stoic man which interested the telepath. Or perhaps it was the image that he couldn't erase from his own mind, that of a beautiful pale body marred with dirt and filth, laying face-down on a cold floor, face streaked with tears.

Perhaps, ultimately, it was the fact that Schuldig knew that which each encounter Aya somehow was calming, stabilising. The only thing Schuldig wasn't really sure of was wether or not this was from the physical activity or from the subtle ways in which Schuldig would touch his mind, beating down the spots of blinding pain and smoothing out knots of confusion. 

Slightly agitated, Schuldig shifted his weight as he stood in the doorway of Crawford's room, watching the American straighten his tie.

"If you are so bored, you can always reconsider and join me." Crawford addressed the redhead in his native German, but knowing full well what his response would be. 

*No way. The day I voluntarily go to one of those boring intelligence sessions is the day Farf throws out his knife collection*

Crawford involuntarily smiled as he picked up his jacket from his bed and made his way toward the door. "Fine. Stay here, then. You can keep an eye on Farfarello, and make sure he doesn't get out of his room." He paused in front of his lover. "And leave Nagi alone. He needs to conserve his strength for tomorrow, and your 'games' wear him out terribly."

Schuldig sighed and leaned back against the doorframe. *Brad, you never let me have any fun!*

Crawford smirked. "We'll see about that -- after I get home." As he sauntered out of the bedroom, he threw something back at Schuldig, almost as an afterthought, but obviously intentional. *Oh, you might be interested to know that tonight's topic of discussion is your latest toy--I wouldn't get too attached to the kitten, if I were you.*

Schuldig jerked his head in Crawford's direction, caught off guard. *Fuck.* "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

As the front door shut, the English voice came back inside his mind. *You'll see. Tonight.*

***

The first thing Schuldig did after Crawford had left was make his way to the room of Schwartz's resident psychopath and unbolt the door. 

Smug bastard. Just a mild touch of defiance would let Crawford know that Schuldig wasn't happy with being left hanging like that, and should get home the point that no one toys with his mind. 

Retreating to the now empty bedroom he occasionally shared with Crawford, Schuldig flopped down on the mattress and drifted to sleep. 

***

He was awakened almost an hour later by a strange noise which could only be described as deranged laughter coming from the living room. Dragging himself to the lounge, Schuldig blinked a few times at the sight which greeted his eyes. 

"Farf, what in hell are you doing?"

The Irishman was sitting in the middle of the living room, knife protruding from his mouth. Between his legs rested Crawford's new desktop shredder, surrounded by an enormous pile of shavings and pulp of various colours and textures.

Farfarello removed the knife from his mouth, licking his own blood from the blade. A single amber eye looked up at Schuldig and the psychotic voice sounded cheerful as he answered in English:

"I'm shredding."

"I can see that - what are you shredding?"

"Stuff. Mostly Crawford's. From the drawers in his bathroom. And from the fridge. And from his desk."

The knife reentered Farferello's mouth, his pale lips closing around the blade. As a slight trickle of blood made its way out of the corner of his mouth, his single eye closed and a soft sound of pleasure escaped from between his lips.

Schuldig sighed. He knew better than to disturb Farf when he was happy. The only thing he didn't look forward to was explaining to Brad that he had left the Irishman alone long enough for him to reduce many of Brad's personal care products and Imported American food to a sticky pulp. Not to mention a few shredded business reports.

Things being as they were, it was best to listen to him and not bother Nagi. The brat was probably busy on his own, anyway. A quick "look" into Nagi's room confirmed what he had suspected: the boy was entertaining himself this evening with the help of his computer. Stupid kid.

Frustrated, Schuldig headed for the door, grabbing a long, black trench coat and his trademark sunglasses on the way. As his direction steered him towards the new downtown location of Weiss's ex-resident redhead, Schuldig tried repeatedly to convince himself that it wasn't because he was concerned over why he hadn't seen Aya for two days, or over whatever the hell Crawford was plotting next; it was just his deprived body pulling him towards release. Toward Aya.

It was a hard sell. 

~~~~`~,~@


	8. A Parting

Chapter Eight: A Parting

  


[KEN]

The pen feels strange in my hand, the smooth paper white and pure, awaiting my words. Ran gave me this journal last spring; he loved to read, and, disappointed that I didn't share his passion, urged me to try writing instead. I laughed and promised him I would, but never had, until now. 

There wasn't a need before, really; Ran was always around to talk to whenever I needed an ear. I suppose now this will have to do. 

Dear Ran: 

It's a miserable day. Not just in the fact that today generally sucks, but the weather is bad, too; my soccer practice was cancelled, so I decided to stay home and write to you. Funny, isn't it? I have nowhere to send this, but I need to do it, anyway. 

It's been exactly fifteen days since I woke up and found it. The Note. It appeared innocent enough sitting on the kitchen counter, written in blue ink on blank stationary in your beautiful script. 

The characters told a simple story: 

this cross is no longer mine to bear

Pretty cold, ne? Just like that, "goodbye." 

Yohji flew into a panic, convinced that it was a suicide note, until Omi calmly pointed out that people intent on ending their own lives don't normally bring along the majority of their clothes, and certainly not their collection of awful sweaters. Honestly, who would want those things in heaven?

So, as hard as it's been to accept, you've simply left us, God only knows for where. I should have expected it, really. We all should have. You were acting, to be perfectly honest, pretty damn nuts. You were shutting us out until your silence eventually exploded with violence.

I think inside we've all got different ideas as to exactly why you've gone, and we're all doing different things to keep together.

Omi's been glued to his computer hitting the intelligence circuit, but, like the investigation into your kidnapping and the sons of bitches behind it, he's still drawing blanks. Odd, isn't it? We find it so hard to believe that Kritiker hasn't been on top of you, considering that we're all marked for membership for life, so it seems, and considering that they probably know our every move. At any rate, Manx hasn't come by, and we're getting nothing from above. All I know is, if those bastards are keeping us in the dark about what's going on with you, I'll tear out their throats. 

Yohji blames himself, I know. He fessed up that he had stormed into the shop and hollered at you, and feels that he pushed you over the edge. Stupid, really, that Yohji would think that he ever had that much influence over you. I know that you wouldn't let that get to you; if anything, you would normally laugh at Yohji trying to be all chivalrous and keep on going. You know -- if the situation were different and you hadn't attacked me the night before. 

I really can't blame the guys for how their acting, but I know that if anyone drove you away it was me, and my stupid belief that you'd could come around on your own. I mean, sure, I had gone to you several times, and yeah, I had tried to get you to talk, but really, in the end it wasn't enough, was it? You needed me to keep you grounded, and I wasn't up to the task. I guess the only thing I can do is say that I'm sorry - even if it is too little, too damn late.

I think that the real low point of these past two weeks was the call last a few days ago from your sister. A hysterical teenaged girl demanding to know what was wrong with you wasn't exactly what I wanted to deal with, not mention that my hope that you had at least kept in contact with her were destroyed. I basically had to tell that girl that her brother had, in effect, disappeared. 

I cursed you, after that. She's only a girl, you know? I didn't think that to her you would have been so cold. But the thing is, she's strong, she'll survive. You, on the other hand? Who knows, especially after how you looked that last time I saw you...

I stop writing and stared down at the page, now full of my sloppy handwriting of wobbly characters, the ink slightly running from the tears which had slipped down onto the page. I can't bring myself to write about that last night. 

When he last came to me, he cried; tears trailing down porcelain cheeks and reflecting the moonlight. It was the first time I'd seen him crack since he was attacked, his fragility was exposed in such a heartbreaking way. Yet, instead of letting me hold him, he ran away, gone before I could take a hold of the situation. 

In that state, I don't know what will happen to him; all I can do is hope. Hope's a funny thing, you know. Despite all the shit that's happened, despite the pain, I feel so much of it now, that I've even started praying again despite those crazy nightmares. And if that isn't ironic, I don't know what is. 

I pick myself up from the sofa and wander into his room, curling up on his bed and breathing in his scent from his pillow. It's rich and warm, enveloping my senses and momentarily fooling me into thinking that Ran will place his arms around me at any instant. 

It's been exactly fifteen days and this is the first time I've cried. 

I think that I've really lost him, this time.   
  


  
  


[RAN]

I'm becoming a monster. 

When Aya-chan and I were little, she'd sneak into my room at night, her eyes wide and lower lip trembling. I would let her lie in bed next to me, and listen to her high, frightened voice tell me about the creatures that lived in her closest and under her bed. She was always convinced that while with me, she was immune to their powers, that I would protect her.

What I can't let her know is that I've now become the very type of creature that I'd protected her against. 

*You're not a monster. No more than anyone else, anyway.*

The familiar voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back from the edge of sleep. Great, just what I needed. Sitting up sharply in bed, I groan slightly and check my watch. 12:33 am. Bastard.

*You weren't sleeping, anyway.*

Point. 

It's not that I mind him bothering me at night, anyway, only that it's been so damn peaceful these last few days. Other than Schuldig calling me out of my small shoebox of a flat and meeting me at various seedy establishments nightly, there really hasn't been anything else that I've had to think about. It's been two weeks of utter and complete silence. No Koneko, no fangirls, no team, no missions. No Aya-chan. No Ken. No Abysinnian, no Ran. 

They're all better off without me, anyway. 

I've pretty much sat in the same room for this time, more than half expecting to find a Kritiker team swarming upon me any minute. At least if I stay in one place, I know that I am allowed to be alive, and not merely being chased. 

Only now it seems that I am being chased, but by a cocky German redhead who seemed to delight in invading my mind and making fun of my confusion. 

Schuldig. Guilty

He was teasing me, last time we were together, about the way I said his name: "Juuderchi." I can't remember for what purpose, other than sheer boredom, that I asked him what the damn thing meant. How ironic, as guilty is most of what I feel when I'm around him. And yet I can't seem to break free. He has become my drug of choice, addictive and sharp; seductive and consuming. 

I can't explain why, but when I am with him my thoughts are focussed, my mind is clear. Our "conversations" have been growing steadily more complex, as I'm no longer shocked to find someone else in my mind. In fact, I've grown quite a liking for mental sarcasm, and have discovered that mind games can flow both ways.

*I went by the Koneko and the flat to check up on the kitties. You haven't been back since your dramatic exit, have you?*

*Congratulations for your stunning powers of observation. I certainly hope you don't expect a reward for 'finding' me.* 

*Of course I do.* 

*What would that be?*

*You.*

*Why the fuck do you care?*

*I'm horny*

I smirk. This sounds familiar. *You'll have to come up with a better reason than that if I'm going to come out to you and haul my ass to one of those filthy hotels.*

*I didn't hear you complaining about what you did to me in the last one of those "filthy hotels," did I? Look, why don't you just let me in?*

He knows the answer to that one. *Not in my home, Schuldig.*

For some reason he seems to drop some of the playfulness from his 'tone.' *Look...the powers that be are up to something. I don't know what, but it involves you. Can we meet?*

*Why the hell are you asking? I didn't expect you to continue respecting my privacy....I'm assuming you've already figured out where I am?*

*Actually, I'm right outside.*

Figures. 

*Look, may I come in? There's an old bag out here starting to look at me strangely, and I'm more than a bit disturbed at what she's thinking...*

*What's that?*

*It involves me and the dilapidated sofa in that back alley...oh, eww...*

I couldn't help it, I laughed, and crossed the room to unbolt the door. This is the first time I've broken my own rule, and let him into my "home." 

The door swings open and in he steps, confident and seductive as ever. 

"Two days, red. You win, you made me come to you. Now it's your turn to beg."

As he turns to shut the door, I reach out and pull him into my chest, his back locked against my taller frame. He is still against me for a moment, listening as I breathe in his ear. 

"Never, Schuldig. The day I beg from you is the day I die."

I turn him around roughly, and pull him into a harsh kiss, his taste flooding my senses and making me forget all else except this. 

  
  


~~~~`~,~@


	9. Waking from the Dream

Chapter Nine: Waking from the Dream

  


[SCHU]

6:06 am. He's sleeping.

This is the first time we've actually slept together, his head resting on the crook of my shoulder and eartails tickling my chest; his naked body curled up next to mine, his breathing deep and even. 

We made the usual mess of the bed and then, instead of getting up and tossing me my clothes as expected, he simply wrapped his arm around my chest and drifted off to sleep, as if we were lovers. Which I suppose, in a strange way, we are. I mean, I guess we've passed the level of fuck-buddies if he's letting me spend the night. 

It's surprising how peaceful he looks when he's sleeping. His mouth is stretched into a delicate smile, and he looks blissfully untroubled. I move my right arm from his back and stroke his fine silky hair, and kiss the top of his head, amazed at the trust he is putting in me. I mean, I could kill him right here, right now, couldn't I?

*But you won't* A teasing voice pipes up inside my head.

Shut up.

*You're probably going to have to, you know.* Now _that_ voice I definitely want to go away. Stupid conscience. It's the last thing that I want to think about now when I'm in bed with someone who actually trusts me with his life. 

I'm not used to being trusted. I mean, really, I'm not a very trustworthy guy, am I? Maybe he's just lonely, or desperate. Or both. At any rate, he really aught to know better. What the hell is he thinking? I suppose it really wouldn't hurt to take a quick peek inside and find out...

Closing my eyes and resting my arm on his back pulling him closer to my chest, I slip inside his dream.

  
  


// "NO!" A scream, reverberating off the walls of the kitchen in Weiss' new flat in Kyoto. 

"Ran, no!" It came again, louder this time, and more insistent. "Don't, please!" Ken shouted in a panicked voice, reaching over to bat Ran's hand away from the pot lid. Too late, his hand smashed into Ran's, both of which came down hard on handle, sending the pot sailing off the stove, landing with a loud crash.

Yohji and Omi poked their heads into the kitchen, wanting to catch a glimpse of whatever it was which was making Ken screech. The sight which greeted their eyes made Yohji double over with laughter and Omi run for his camera. 

  


Ran, who looked fit to kill someone, was sporting splotches of reddish-brown sauce all over his favourite bright orange sweater. Ken, who was equally sauce covered, was leaning over the door to the oven, fanning smoke which came billowing out.

"I TOLD you not to go near the stove! I knew it was awful, and I didn't want to let the smell out!"

"What the hell were you trying to do, anyway?" Omi asked, clicking away.

"Cook dinner! I wanted to try something different, and I remembered Aya saying that he liked spaghetti, so I tried to bake some noodles and make sauce..." Ken hesitantly looked into Ran's eyes. "I'm sorry about your shirt..."

Yohji straightened up and joined the conversation. "Good riddance, I say! You've done us a favour, Ken, by doing away with that thing." 

Ran's tone was icy in his reply. "For your information, Yohji, I happen to have three more in my closet."

Silence fell over the kitchen for a moment, as everyone waited for Ran's rage to break over them all. Omi cowered behind Yohji, and Ken tried to make himself disappear behind the large potted fern near the kitchen door. 

Ran turned, walking toward his Ken, coming to a stop scarce inches from where the boy was quivering. "As for you..." He leaned over, whispering in Ken's ear, "we're going to have to get out of these dirty clothes, hmm?" Ran's expression cracked and he dissolved into laughter. 

Ken's sigh of relief was audible, and as he surveyed the damage, he broke out in giggles. "I tried so hard..." he mourned.

"...and you failed so miserably." Ran choked out, drawing Ken into an embrace. 

"Yohji, I think we should go out for pizza..." Omi yanked the older man out of the kitchen and away from the sound of Ran and Ken's laughter... //

  


Hmm...I open my eyes as the vision leaves me with Ran's waking. So that's the Ran that Weiss lost. The Ran I never had a chance to meet.

Is he still inside the man who is resting at my side?

  
  
  


[RAN]

A comforting warmth surrounds me as I come out of the first full night's sleep and I've had in ages, the delicious smell and feel of another body pressed up against mine filling my senses with pleasure. "Mmmm..." I nuzzle my head against the strong chest for a second, reveling in this feeling of waking up with a lover.

Ken. It's been so long...I love you so much...

Wait a minute. Since when did Ken have orange hair? 

"Morning, red. You're just up in time to milk the cows. Shall I have cook fix us a breakfast?" 

***

  


A half an hour and a tryst later, Schuldig sits up an speaks, all playfulness gone from his voice. "Aya, there's something we need to talk about."

Why do I suddenly feel so tense? I get up in bed so that we are facing each other. This sounds serious. "It's what you said last night, right? About 'the powers that be?' "

"Yes. Aya, I'm not sure what's going on. Crawford..." He paused, drawing a deep breath. It's as if he's nervous or something. A strange state in which to see Schuldig.

"What about Crawford?"

"Umm...let me level with you. Crawford wants me to watch you."

What the fuck? He's here because Crawford sent him? That explains a lot, I suppose. "I see." I hold my voice steady, not letting my rage slip out. Lying son of a bitch. 

"Well, actually, you don't. Crawford wants me to watch you, not fuck you. I'm his lover." 

Hmph!

"Well, you sure get around."

"You don't know the half of it...Anyway, that's not what's important here, right? What is, is whatever he's got up his sleeve. And I don't know what it is, only that it's about you. They've been having meetings, they're planning something."

"Who's 'they?'"

"I'm not exactly sure...but they're powerful, red. I'm guessing that it's whatever was left over from Estet. And they've got their eye on you."

"Through you."

"Yes." His eyes flicker downward, almost as if he's ashamed to be working as their spy or something. Well, I don't know why I'm surprised. A leopard never changes his spots, right?

"What exactly do you propose I do about it?"

"Get that pretty sister of yours and get the hell out of Japan."

What?! "Why the fuck should I do that?"

"Because otherwise you might wind up joining your parents in the Fujimiya family plot."

I hiss, the mention of my parents biting. "I don't...I don't believe you." 

"Why the hell would I lie?" He meets my gaze again, his eyes earnest. That's an interesting point. I mean, what would he have to gain by getting me out of the picture? 

  


Weiss. He must be after Weiss, and with me out of town...well, we all know how well they held up without me when they were on the run from just about every police officer on Honshu. Schwartz must be after Weiss again, heaven knows why, and call me conceited, but without me, they'd be an easy target. Inwardly, however, my confidence fades as images flood my senses which fly in the face of my strength. 

"I...I can take care of myself, and my sister." 

No, you can't! You're weak! You've been taken advantage of before, you know how easy it is to be used! 

Yes, I can. I can do this. If my sister is threatened, or if Weiss is a target, I can give my life to save them. What good can I do anyone if I run like a scared rabbit?

But isn't that what I'm doing now?

No. This is different. I'm not running, I'm surviving. I can't turn back, but I can watch them from a distance. As long as they are in my sight, I can keep them safe. That doesn't mean I have to rejoin them.

Satisfied with my reasoning, I look back at Schuldig, who appears anxious. "I'll stay here. As for you, I think it's about time you found the door." I get off the bed, heading for the bathroom, ignoring the apparent hurt on his face. I grab his pants on my way and throw them at his feet. "And tell your lover that he's going to have to find a better way to get rid of me than by sending me his whore." 

As the shower scalds my skin, I hear the slam of the front door, followed by the echo of his voice within my head.

*It's not over with us, you know. Not by a long shot. Don't say I didn't warn you.*

  


~~`~,~@

  



	10. An Ultimatum

  
  


Chapter 10: An Ultimatum

  
  


[KEN]

It's so odd that after everything that's happened, I can just sit here and water plants, arrange roses, and wait on customers like a normal person. I know that I need this, though. It's the only hold I have on normalcy, this and soccer. They keep me grounded and sane in an insane life; reminding me that there is a world that doesn't reside in the darkness with us. 

It was good to get back to work, after being off for those few days while I healed. 

My bruises have faded and outwardly, I guess, there's nothing really indicating that all hell has broken loose, and there's nothing I can do about it, other than to keep rearranging flowerpots, chatting up customers, and getting our merchandise under cover before the impending rainstorm hits. 

My thoughts are broken by a small voice at my side.

"Ken-kun, why do you look so sad? You're face looks heaps better now, you can't even notice your accident! What's wrong?"

Wiping sweaty hair out of my eyes I put down the heavy ceramic planter and smile down at the bright-eyed young girl. Sometimes it is hard to decide if the herds of fangirls are the best or worst part of our cover in the flowershop. Today, it's definitely the best. The cheerful smiles and genuine concern were more than I could expect from Ran; Omi and Yohji were so distant lately, that often these days I felt desperately lonely. 

"Nothing's wrong, Rei. I'm just a little tired today." I smile again, and pick a purple flower out of an arrangement nearby. "Here's a flower for my favorite customer-now get going, it's almost dark, and it looks like rain!" I wave as the girl giggles and scampers off, leaving me alone to close up the shop. 

As I heave the last of the ceramic pots under cover from the oncoming storm, I hear a clear female voice from behind. 

"It's just about closing time, ne?"

Manx. 

I turn and greet her with a nod, wiping my dusty hands on my jeans, and quickly run my eyes over her short form. She's wearing what I've come to consider her Manx uniform, the red blazer and way-too-short skirt having become the norm for her visits to the shop, even here in Kyoto. She's also sporting her regular physics-defying hairstyle which Omi says makes her look like she's had a bad run-in with a windstorm. And, as always, the small briefcase undoubtedly filled with intelligence reports and a video of whoever they have filling the role of Persia these days. The only thing different is the expression on her face, the way her ruby red lips are slightly curled and the way her eyes flicker from me to the ground. A smile spreads over the lower half of her face as she quickly glances up at the sky. 

"Looks like rain, doesn't it? Such a pity, we've been having such nice weather. But nothing lasts forever, does it, Siberian?"

The tone in her voice makes my blood run cold. 

"No, nothing does." I answer in a cautious voice. What the heck is she getting at? There's something strange going on, I just know there is...

She doesn't speak, so I continue. "The others are inside. I'm just finishing up now." 

She nods and stands there waiting for me to finish, not speaking. I try to relax as we approach the trailer, reminding myself that this is just Manx, and just a mission. I stand back and open the door to the trailer for Manx to enter ahead of me, hoping that she doesn't notice how nervous I'm feeling. As I start up the steps I hear Manx give a sharp cough, and am greeted by the last thing I expected to see. 

Yohji is lying on the sofa, a very..."amorous" Omi draped over him. Yohji's arms are wrapped around Omi's waist, and they are waging what looks like a pretty intense tongue battle. 

Good lord. So it's Omi and Yohji, is it? I wonder when this started...before or after Ran left? Back in Tokyo? No, I would have noticed, wouldn't I? Or was I too 

caught up in Ran and everything that happened to notice? 

It comes to me, a flash of something Ran said the night he beat me. 

//"If you want it that much, why not go visit Yohji? I'm sure he'd be willing, unless he's decided to try monogamy with Omi. But then, you never know, the two of them might invite you to join in."//

I'd let that one roll right past me, having chocked it up to Ran's anger and bitterness. I suppose he was more in tune with what was going on around him than I thought. Hell knows that I never guessed that the biggest womanizer in Japan was involved with a seventeen year-old boy. 

They obviously didn't hear the door or Manx's polite interruption, so I suppose I really ought to do something to break up their little make-out session...thank heavens they still have their clothes on. I mean, honestly, there's just some things I'd just rather not see! The mental imagery alone is horrific enough...

"Umm...guys. Manx is here." 

At the sound of my voice, Omi yelps and leaps away from Yohji, landing squarely on the floor. His face is as red as a tomato as he tries to not make eye contact with us, while Yohji calmly straightens his clothes and places a cigarette between his lips, flashing Manx a wide smile.

"Afternoon, Manx. What can we do for you?"

The smile quickly fades as Manx begins to speak. 

"Good to see you to, Balinese, Bombay. I'm here because I think it's high time we addressed the security breach in Weiss."

Security breach? What? Confused, I sit down in a chair near the sofa. Yohji reaches out and put his hand on my arm and looks into my eyes for a moment before looking back over to Manx.

"It's about Aya, isn't it?" he asks quietly.

"Yes. I've got some reports here that need going over, and I have a mission for you, all of which directly involve Abysinnian." 

Ran. I knew that Kritiker would be involved, but the way Manx is standing there, file folders in hand. It's like a freaking business meeting or something, the way she is discussing him. I don't know if I can hear this. I involuntarily look at my hands in my lap, suddenly fascinated by the band on my wristwatch. 

"Siberian, this is important, and deserves full attention. Especially yours, given the nature of your previous relationship with Abysinnian."

Anger boils within me, threatening to run over the surface. What does she mean, "previous" relationship? Who does this bitch think she is? 

Omi pulls himself onto the sofa and speaks up. "Manx, please, get on with it."

"As you are well aware, Abysinnian broke contact with both Kritiker and his team two weeks ago. Kritiker had been monitoring him closely since his departure, as he has been privy to highly sensitive information throughout his affiliation with our organization. It came to our attention that Abysinnian has been engaging in a sexual relationship with someone who we feel poses a risk to the security of Kritiker. Although it was known to us since it began, it appears recently that a more intimate relationship has formed between the pair, and we know feel obligated to take action to end this situation." 

I can't breathe, I really can't breathe... Situation? This situation? My heart feels like it's going to explode in my chest and she's talking about some "situation"? 

Yohji tightens his grip on my arm and breaks the heavy silence, giving voice to the question I can't bring myself to ask. "Who is it?"

"Abysinnian is involved with a member of Schwartz. Schuldig, to be specific."

Schuldig? I should have known that jerk would have been able to crawl out of the rubble of that building. But why Schuldig? Of all the conceited, dirty, twisted fucks on the face of the earth, why would Ran get involved with him? And when...

"How long?" I manage to grate out.

  
  


"Abysinnian-"

That does it. I wrench my arm away from Yohji and get to my feet before I know it, the anger spilling over and bursting out at Manx.

"Call him by his friggin' name! I'm so sick of you people, you sit behind desks and gather information and give it to us in doses whenever you see fit, you waltz in here and screw up our lives and play with us like puppets on strings! And you can't even give him the dignity to call him by his own name, now that he's not with us! It's RAN! Call him Ran!"

Out of breath and on the verge of tears, I stagger backwards and land in my chair. I collect myself a bit, and continue, voice shaky.

"Please...just call him Ran..."

Manx nods slightly in my direction, but of course, keeps her professional cool. 

"Very well, Siberian. 'Ran' first went to Schuldig two weeks ago, the night before he left Weiss."

Two weeks. Of course, it would have had to been then. He came to me that night, came into my room, tears on his face. The next morning, there was the note, and no trace of him since. It makes so much sense, now that we've been told what's been going on. Ran was hurt and upset, and left here only to bump into Schuldig. That sonofabitch fucked with his mind, and twisted Ran into leaving us, into leaving me...Ran wouldn't have done it on his own, not my Ran...It was Schuldig, and so God help me, he is going to pay.

Yohji and Omi are looking from me to Manx, and I guess the silently agree that it's alright to continue, because Omi prods Manx for more information. 

"Why did you let it go on until now? I was searching everyday on the network to see if there were any reports on Aya-kun. I couldn't find any, not even through backdoors. Kritiker must have had a reason for keeping this under such tight wraps, to keep it hidden even from us. Don't you think we had a right to know?"

Manx paused, as if she was trying to phrase her response as carefully as possible.

"It was thought that it could prove advantageous to monitor the situation privately and see what would come of it."

"You mean, it would be advantageous to see if Aya would lead you to Schwartz?" Yohji broke in, sounding irked. It makes sense, after all. Kritiker has no problems playing God, so why would they stop at letting us believe that they had no idea where Ran was, simply so that they could watch and see what would happen? The thought makes me so angry at Manx I could spit.

"That's it, isn't it? You knew all along that Ran was being played by that sick bastard, and you let it go on because you thought that he could be your bait!" I'm shouting, and I don't care. Manners be damned. She knew how sick with worry we were over Ran, she knew what he is to me, she knew, and she let him stay in danger...

"Be that as it may, the facts remain that Ran's current status leads us to a large problem. We don't know exactly what the situation is with Schwartz or Estet, and we don't know what Ran's mental state is like. All we do know for certain is that the relationship with Schuldig is growing more serious, and is something that must be stopped immediately, one way or another." 

This doesn't sound good. A silence descends on the four of us, and Omi and Yohji exchange worried glances. It is Omi who poses the question which hangs in the air.

"What do you mean, 'one way or another'? Manx, why did you come here today?"

Manx turns and makes eye contact with me as she responds to Omi's question.

"The mission is simple: put a stopper on a potential security leak by any means necessary. To put it plainly, either re-integrate Abysinnian into Weiss and eliminate Schuldig, or kill them both." 

~~~`~,~@

  
  


A/N: Yes, there has been a bit of a shift in style in the last two or three parts from the first half of the story. This is because the first of the story was written ages ago, and was very character-intensive, meant to play out the feelings of Ran and Ken after the rape. The problem was, I couldn't see that really going much further than where it went for about 6 parts, and as such, it was abandoned.

The story has, however, recently been revived in my head and a larger scale plot has emerged (hence the editing job on December 28th.), meaning that I want to get away from overly convoluted inner monologues and focus on the bigger picture (ie: the relationship between Schuldig and Ran, the plans Crawford has up his sleeve, the back story of why Ran was kidnaped in the first place, and just how did he get home?). 

Also, I do realize that the parts have been pretty short. This is because I feel that since I let the story go so long without updates, that I would give you guys the story pretty much as each POV is finished. (It means, however, that there should be pretty frequent updates.)

I hope that those of you who enjoyed the original first 6 or so parts aren't disappointed with the turn the story has taken since the edit and the attack of the plot bunnies. Either way, I'd love to hear from you! ^^ 


	11. A Meeting of Minds

a/n: Sorry to overload you with notes, but these are important!

For those of you not familiar with the Weiss Kreuz manga this part will contain some spoilers. I'm sorry to put in manga spoilers this far into the story, but the version of the murder of the Fujimiyas as presented in the manga -- explosion at the company headquarters, not assassination at home -- fits much better into the plot of this story. (And trust me, even though it's not really clear yet, the Fujimiya murder is key to this story).

Manga translations of An Assassin and White Shaman, which tell the back history of Ran's joining Weiss are available online (but are NOT necessary to understanding what happens from now on in this fic, as I explain all the relevant bits.) If you are interested, however, try the awesome "Nameless Manga Translation Site", to whom I am indebted for providing kickass translations and scans. 

//...// = flashback

  
  


Chapter 11: A Meeting of Minds

  
  


[SCHU]

How many times do I have to come to this goddamned park? 

I'm actually not quite sure how I wound up here. I left Ran's place this morning seething with anger, and started walking, not paying attention to where I was going, only wanting to get as far away from Ran as possible. And somehow, I wind up on a bench sitting alone in the only place in this city that holds good memories, and they aren't even mine - they're Ran's. 

On a good day, the field in front of me would normally be crowded with children chasing after balls of different sorts, only the weather offering me a sense of seclusion. There's a heaviness to the air, the type of grey sky which promises rain; the whipping wind adding an unseasonable chill. The shitty weather meshes perfectly with my mood. Ideal weather for smoking and moping, and that's what I was doing, right? Sitting around feeling sorry for my fucking ass like some teenage girl who got stood up for the prom. 

I suck back my fifth cigarette in a row, chased by the last of a bottle of horrible vending-machine sake. This is great, Sascha. You're on your way to being bloody well drunk before high noon. Empty, the bottle falls from my hand and hits the ground with a dull thud. It's a cheap form of escapism, but I don't give a shit - I'll take anything that dulls my senses to the pain of everything. 

Ran.

That bastard actually kicked me out. I should have known that the trust wouldn't really last.

I only regret - no, hold it. I don't have regrets. Regrets are a waste of time and energy. But, in retrospect, it would have been better perhaps for me to have gone into his mind, to see what he was thinking when he did it; to try to understand why he suddenly wouldn't believe me. Or, better still, to just twist his mind into accepting whatever I told him. 

Well, why didn't I? It's not as if I don't have this damned power, right? 

Hmph! What a fucking joke. Power? It's more like a goddamned curse, for if there ever was a God, I must have been truly cursed to have been given it. 

For starters, it's not really as simple as one would think; not near as simple as, say, speaking or seeing with my other, "normal", senses. Touching the mind of another person brings their thoughts entirely into my own; often I can't distinguish where my own mind stops and theirs begins. It's not exactly a pleasant experience, you know; losing yourself inside another person. It's like becoming one with that other mind; a fusion that's more intimate than sex or love. Sometimes, if they are particularly perceptive, I can even leave traces of myself within them, sharing some pretty damn personal pieces of myself with strangers or enemies. In short, slipping in and out of minds gives me the power to control people, but it comes at a great cost to myself. 

Once I was trained in how to control the power, I relished the feeling of privacy, the simple privilege of being able to retreat into my own thoughts, my own dreams. 

It's only with someone else with enormous mental discipline who can maintain channels between us with no side-effects; people like Crawford, Nagi, or the trainers at Estet. With anyone else, mental conversations are a certified pain in the ass. But then, with some people, it's worth the effort. And it _is_ true that the more I "talk" with someone, the easier it gets.

I drag heavily on the cigarette for a final time, flicking it to the ground and moving on under the dark sky, _not_ thinking about Aya. I wonder what he would say if he knew that there are times when I would give up everything for a permanent hold on normalcy, on the mundane existence wasted by so many and treasured by scant few. 

Aya, Ran. 

I can still remember the first time I encountered that mind, long before we were enemies and he learned to despise me.

  
  


///

Smoke and plaster dust blew in the air as the rubble settled on the site of the Fujimiya Corporation Tokyo headquarters. 

Schuldig stood across the street surveying the scene: the crowds were panicked, some fearing an attack of some sort, others trying frantically to locate friends and co-workers. His ears were filled with the distant wail of emergency vehicles growing steadily louder, meshed with cries for doctors and help.

It was rather a shame, wasn't it? All those dozens of people for the sake of two... Schuldig cut off that line of thought quickly. His hands were blood red now, and would never be clean again. He had chosen his course in life, and there was no backpedalling now. 

"This is a standard mission," Crawford had said. "It's the type of thing you can be expected to do - protecting the interests of your employer at all costs."

The cost was, in this case, the life of the CEO of the Fujimiya Trading Company, one of Taketori's largest partners, and his wife. 

From what Schuldig had gleaned from various intelligence reports, Fujimiya Trading was involved in more than stocks. It was, in fact, actively engaged in washing money through its operations which then freed up "clean" capital for Taketori to use in funding his political career. Taketori's less desirable transactions, then, could go unnoticed underneath the blanket of legitimacy provided by the Fujimiyas. As far as Schuldig was concerned, it sounded like a pretty tight operation, and a sweet deal for both parties involved. The problem, however, was that Taketori was a paranoid bastard, and was convinced that his partner was committing untold acts of treachery. He hired Schwartz to not only protect his own affairs, but to plant narcotics at Fujimiya's main plant, and to ultimately dispose of the Fujimiya family itself. Which Schuldig would do without hesitation, especially after walking through the mind of Fujimiya Shiro. 

It was in Taketori's office, last week. Taketori, his small face flushed to an almost impossible shade of purple with rage, practically screeched at Schuldig. 

"Go in there, you freak, and tell me what you see. I want to know everything about Fujimiya's plans to screw me over."

*Do it, Schuldig.* Crawford sent. 

*Fine, fine...fucking asshole. But I'm waiting until the guy goes to sleep.* 

One convenient trick Schuldig had learned is that his extra sense is easier to control in normal people when the other mind is asleep, making it almost painless to slip in and out of dreams; a fairly easy way to fuck with someone's head and delve into their subconscious. With Fujimiya, it was an easy enough matter, once he had actually passed out after a night of drunken debauchery. What Schuldig discovered about the Fujimiya family made him inwardly cringe. 

First of all, there was Shiro. Drunk on the money he was making from his deal with Taketori, he ignored the fact that he went on golfing holidays and weekend whoring trips all thanks to blood money. Oddly enough, he actually was once a man of morals. And it was true, he was plotting against Taketori, even to the extent of an assassination. Then, of course, there was the lovely wife. She was having an affair with her tennis instructor, blissfully and knowingly living off the profits of Taketori's enterprises while turning a blind eye to the abuse suffered by her daughter, Aya, at the hands that bastard, Fujimiya. Aya, to her credit, he supposed, bore it in silence, and maintained the fragile sense of stability which kept the family afloat. 

The only one without any major blemish upon their souls was the boy, the only son. He was...innocent. It was funny, actually, in a sad sort of way. The kid had completely shut himself off from the whole screwed up situation, convincing himself that he had the perfect life with the perfect family: his parents loved each other; his mother was practically a virgin saint; his father a brilliant and admirable businessman; his sister utterly innocent with nothing ugly lurking underneath her genki mask. As for himself? He was the oldest child and only son, heir to the much-envied family corporation. He had pride in his own job, and excelled at whatever he pursued. Sports, education, friends; nothing was beyond his reach. 

Poor delusional kid, who didn't even know how miserable he was.

It was this kid who Schuldig now spied across the street, sitting amidst a pile of rubble, the crumpled figure of his sister laying at his side. Pulled by some force beyond mere curiosity, Schuldig casually made his way through the erratic traffic to the pair. It was odd; he had seen this face over and over in his mind, but it was utterly different in life. He wasn't just some kid, he had an almost ethereal beauty -- blazing red hair, wide purple eyes, and tear-streaked pale face. 

Schuldig peered down, unable to quite understand what compelled him to speak:

"You're alive, kid?" 

The purple eyes remained lifeless, locked on the German's but not really seeing him; not seeing anything but the explosion which had killed dozens, including his parents. After a few meaningless lines, Schuldig caught himself, and hastily retreated, calling back to the huddled form of the surviving son: "Good luck, boy!" 

Shaking his head, Schuldig returned to the flat he shared with the rest of Schwartz. 

***

That evening he spoke with Crawford, trying to keep his tone light when it was, in actuality, filled with apprehension. 

"I saw Fujimiya's son today. At the site. He was alive."

"Alive?" Crawford answered, mildly interested from behind his newspaper. "Why didn't you just dispose of him, then?"

Schuldig shrugged. 

"Well...you know how these Japanese gossip. I mean, we wouldn't want the media to bring up any questions if the only surviving son of the Fujimiya CEO just happened to have an unfortunate "accident" minutes or days after the explosion. It might come back to haunt Taketori."

Crawford placed down the newspaper and met Schuldig's gaze. 

"In other words, Schuldig, you couldn't bring yourself to do it?"

There was an odd silence for a moment, before the soft reply. 

"Perhaps."

***

Later that night , Schuldig lay on his mattress tossing and turning, running the encounter with the boy over and over in his thoughts. 

What the hell was it about that kid? 

He seemed so frail and weak just sitting there, but underlaying that was something else. A powerful desire to never feel that way again.

Intrigued, Schuldig finally gave into the desire to seek Ran out, and to enter his dreams. It was there when he learned the essence of the boy who would come to ensnare the very core of Schuldig's being.

Through the visions and the pain, he found that Ran was a boy who would go to any lengths necessary to avoid feeling weak. He would never be taken advantage of, never again be left with raw and bleeding sores. He would exact vengeance on those who had hurt his family and would protect the remaining members - his sister and himself - with his very life. 

"Can you survive, kid? Can you make it on your own? Can you quench your thirst for revenge until you are able to exact it with a practised and deadly precision?"

As Schuldig retreated from the depths of Ran's mind, he erased the memory of his presence, wiping all traces of the German with dyed-green hair from the boy's mind, knowing that when Ran awoke the next day he would only vaguely recall the tall gaijin, and shortly, the image would leave his mind altogether. 

"Someday we will meet again, Fujimiya Ran. Until then... 

///

  
  


I sigh as the but of my sixth cigarette hits the ground.

Not going inside of Ran this morning was a decision I made, and it's not one I'm going to change now.

It's beside the point to think that maybe I wanted him to trust me on his own, to not _have_ to twist his mind into submission and acceptance. I wanted to tell him the truth, to lay everything on the line and see him trust me. Instead, I got what I goddamned well deserved - a kick in the pants and a sign pointing to the door. 

As the first droplets of rain come down from the sky, I shake off the memories and tighten my jacket around me, heading for home.

***

The apartment is dark as I enter. As usual, Farfarello is locked up in his padded cell, Nagi is pounding away on his computer, and Crawford is in his office, no doubt waiting for me to report in. I hang my wet coat on the rack in the hall, kick off my boots, and head to the office. No sense in avoiding the inevitable, right?

As expected, he's sitting behind his desk clad in the standard white business suit, arms folded against his chest, stern look on his face.

"Honey, I'm home."

"You look like shit. Where the hell were you?"

As if he doesn't know. I suppose he really just wants to hear me say it, to admit my defeat with Aya. Well, I'm going to make him work for it. I saunter in and cooly stand in front of his desk, crossing my arms and affixing the standard smirk to my face.

"You mean you don't know? Bradley dear, you're slipping."

I really should have known better than to tease him about his powers. It's the one thing he's actually sensitive about; the plain fact is, that since the final battle with the leaders of Estet and Weiss, Crawford's mental abilities have been diminished. While his control and focus have stayed firm, his visions have been even more unpredictable and unreliable, and I know that it's not a subject to be brought up lightly. But then, when I have I ever shown tact? 

"Don't pull that garbage with me, Sascha. We were supposed to talk after the meeting last night, remember? I don't like to be kept waiting."

The name stings like a slap across the face; I actually stumble for a moment from the shock of hearing it. This was taking things a bit too far! And they call me a heartless bastard.

"Call me that again, Bradley, and I will rip that stick out of your ass and drive it through your chest." 

A slow smile spreads across his face as he calmly replies.

"It wouldn't be wise to threaten me. I know too many of your secrets. Including your sordid affair with Weiss." 

I was wondering how long it would be before he brought up Aya.

"Do sit down, Schuldig. We've got a lot to discuss, haven't we?"

This isn't good; this _so_ isn't good. I need to redirect this conversation quickly, because I can't hear what he has to say like this, not with the tension in the air and that deadly hostility on the edge of his voice. Think, Schuldig! What could get you out of this situation, and fast...Of course! And who ever said that my gun was my deadliest weapon? I uncross my arms and relax into a smile, seductively slinking around his desk and standing behind his chair. I lean down and whisper in his ear, the scent of his cologne filling my senses.

"Now Bradley, must we leap right to business?" 

With a wicked grin on my face, I reach out swirl his chair around and straddle his waist. I tangling my fingers in Crawford's hair, and tip my head down to make my mouth meet his.

Fuck, he tastes good. I'd almost forgotten -- It's been awhile.

Despite his efforts to retain some sense of composure, he can't fight the pressure of my hips rocking into his or my hands sliding over his chest. He moans into my mouth and finally reaches up to pull me closer. Good. This just might work. 

Without warning, he wrenches his mouth free and pushes me off his lap. Smirking, he stands up and cooly walks past me and out of the office. Into my bedroom. Gotcha, Crawford.

As he pushes me back onto my bed and quickly undoes his pants, I keep reminding myself: this is what I want. This is the life I choose. And when he chews on my lower lip drawing blood, I remind myself that Aya was just a game, and now it's time to look out for myself...right?

Of course, right.

  
  


~~~`~,~@


	12. After Sundown

  
  


Chapter 12: After Sundown

  
  


[SCHU]

I awake alone after sundown to the sound of Crawford running the shower, the smell of his strong American coffee wafting throughout the apartment. I'm not really surprised; Brad's never been one much for cuddling. Well, for that matter, neither am I. 

I sit up and cringe, falling back down on the mattress as a burst of pain flares up. I'm sore pretty much everywhere, sporting several fresh bruises along my upper arms and hips; my lower lip stinging from his teeth. Granted, Aya isn't exactly gentle, but that's ... different. Crawford's sex is brutal, yes, but it's without the edge of pain and desperation that I sese flooding through Aya with each touch and thrust. While a deep part of Aya needs to abuse me, Crawford merely delights in hearing the body below him cry out in pain. 

Aya...

I roll over and groan into the pillow, slamming my fist down on next to my head in frustration. Goddamnit, why am I still thinking about him? He threw me out of his life, and cast his lot with Weiss, whether he fully knows that yet or not. I can just see it now: him running back with his tail between his legs to Hidaka, slipping back into that accursed team and ridiculous flowershop, peddling rose arrangements and collecting a Kritiker pension until the end of his days.

Well, It's not like I really have anything to do with it, right? In the back of my head I hear an echo of a small voice telling me not so long ago: "You can't have him. He's white, and we're black." I can't continue to deny it. From my end of things, every moment I stay with Schwartz is another wedge I willingly drive between Aya and myself. As for his part, he doesn't want me, doesn't trust me, and doesn't know that he needs me. End of story.

So why doesn't that thought help matters any?

I turn back over and shake my head, trying to clear the confusion from my mind. Why the fuck am I obsessing over this? Fujimiya Ran was a mission from the very first and remains so until the last. A mission to kill, a mission to confuse, a mission to watch. Just a mission, _never_ more than a mission. 

Yeah, right. Just a fucking mission that's messed with my head, shaken every truth in which I believe, and pretty much has put my neck on the line. I mean, can you just imagine what Hidaka and company would try to do to me if they knew what I was up to with Aya? Seducing him, luring him away from Weiss, and doing God-knows-what to his fragile mind? Not to mention the shit I'm probably in with Crawford. He's no fool, and knows that I've taken this thing too far. I can only hope that through what happened last night I've won back whatever confidence in my loyalty that he might have lost. I won't really know for sure, however: cracking Crawford's brain is, admittedly, something beyond me. Despite his wavering powers of prediction, the man has mental shields which are as strong as steel. I'd rip my own mind apart before I got beneath Crawford's barriers. 

What a fucking mess. Before this whole thing is over, I'm probably going to have Weiss, Schwartz, _and_ Aya baying for my blood.

Hearing Crawford leave the bathroom, I bite my lip and climb out of bed, sliding on my discarded pants and crumpled shirt. I can't put it off any longer; it's time to find out exactly what Crawford and our new boss have been up to. The goddamned plot thickens. 

That jerk better damn well have not used up all the hot water.

***

Nagi's in the living room for a change, mangas laying strewn about around him. He doesn't even look up as I walk in, instead cramming three more sticks of pocky in his mouth. "Konban wa, Schu." He mumbled, flipping through the comic. 

I inwardly marvel at Nagi's single-mindedness, his ability to completely shut off whatever chaos is unfolding around him. There's a potential firestorm about to break loose in this apartment, and he's just sitting there reading mangas and watching anime, oblivious. 

"Hey, kid. He's waiting, huh?" 

He finally looks up, flashing me a wry smile. "You know he is." *Hey, Schu. Good luck.*

***

I try to sound casual as I enter the office, making sure that all channels to my head are cut off from his prying sixth sense. "Evenin' Brad," I murmur, as I slide gracefully into the empty chair across from him. "Now that we're all rested up," I pause to lick my lips, "I thought that we could get around to discussing that intelligence meeting I missed. You said that something that came up might concern me?" 

Crawford smirked and replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "It really is a shame that you didn't come with me to the meeting, Schuldig. You're absence was noted. Of course, I just explained to our employer that you were out fucking the target you were supposed to monitor, and he understood." 

Yeah, right. Time to whip out "insistent-yet-slightly-subservient-Schu," a sure-fire tactic to get my way in the current situation. "Brad, come on, stop screwing around with me! What the hell went on there that night?"

With a short laugh, he caves. "Fine, fine. I suppose you _have_ suffered enough. Do you remember this?"

He slides a folder across the table, leaning back in his chair with a disinterested expression on his face, as if he _weren't_ monitoring my reaction with a microscope. Opening the folder, my breath hitches in my throat as I immediately recognize the picture on the first page. It's an image which I see constantly imprinted on Aya's mind, a part of a broken memory which replays itself over and over in his dreams. A red phoenix, wings outstretched and rising from black flames. It's also an image I remember all too well from firsthand experience.

Come on, Schuldig. Time to play dumb. And it better be a command performance, or Crawford will see right through you..."That night, the mansion. Kawakami Something-or-other. We're finished with those sickos, aren't we?"

"Apparently, Mr. Kawakami wants to engage our services again, which is why he organized our little mission briefing. Heavens knows why he wants us back after your little episode that night; he was highly disappointed in your performance, Schuldig. It was all I could do to keep him from throwing an army of thugs after you. You do remember what happened last time you pissed off a boss, don't you?"

I flinched. That was low, to bring up Taketori and his fucking golf clubs. Bastard. "What's your point, Brad?" There's a bitterness to my tone that I cannot bite back., despite all efforts to act complacent.

"The point, Schuldig, is that your kitten doesn't have much time left. We've got orders to capture him and deliver him 'reasonably unharmed.' Just think of this as restitution for your temporary lapse of judgement last time." 

I involuntarily suck back a harsh breath and inwardly struggle to retain composure as he sends me images of Aya, beaten, naked, and inches from death. 

Crawford smiles as he closes the folder and pretends not to notice my reaction. 

I shrug it off and continue, determined not to let him get the best of me. He'd like nothing more for me to admit that I have feelings toward Aya, but goddamnit, I don't, and I won't give him the satisfaction of saying so! "How exactly does he propose we do this, Brad? Capturing a Weiss kitty isn't as easy as it sounds." 

"Too true: but it's a simple enough plan, and well within even your capabilities: through Fujimiya himself. We're to feed Weiss the information they've been hunting for as to the whereabouts of their leader's captors, and let them fall into our hands. They'll be so blinded by their desire for the kill that they won't see the trap right in front of their faces."

Hmm. Interesting, and entirely plausible. Not that I give a flying fuck about Hidaka and friends, but it's pretty low to take advantage of Aya's given state...time to throw a wrench in here, somewhere. I close the folder and slide it back across the desk. "How can you be so sure that Aya won't simply find Kawakami and slice him in half?"

Crawford gave a short, sharp laugh, before answering in a deadly tone: "Schuldig, in his mental state, how long do you think your little lover he'll last in his quest for revenge? From all the reports you've given us, he can't even hold his sword straight."

Well, it _was_ a valid question. The only problem in Crawford's logic was the fact that I hadn't told him the entire truth about Aya's situation. While Crawford knew that Aya had been driven to violence and erratic behaviour after the kidnapping, I may have embellished a point or two, basically leading him to believe that Aya was ready for a nice, long stay at a state mental hospital. Well, I suppose by some standards, he might have been. But that was before I started merging with Aya in his dreams, before I had begun to untangle the web of confusion in his mind, before I had started providing him with an outlet for all his rage and aggression. Who really knew, now, just how stable Aya was? Certainly not Crawford. But then, best keep that little secret to myself. 

"Yeah, perfect..." I reply. "When do we start?"

"We already have. I've got Nagi working on cracking into Kritiker and sending Weiss a briefing on their new 'mission.' After that, we set up the trap and wait for them to fall into it."

"Weiss aren't idiots, Brad. Bleeding heart fools, perhaps, delusional certainly, but not idiots. That brat Tsukiyono will have it figured out in a second that it's a fake briefing." 

He just nods, as if I haven't shot his whole plan down. "Exactly."

What the hell?

"Again, your powers of plotting have left me in awe." I snort. This plan was sounding more complicated by the minute. "Look, if you're just going to feed Weiss the info, why bother with the ruse at all?"

"Simple: to lend our information some legitimacy. Nagi will make sure that they know its fake, but that Kritiker won't be able to detect our presence in their system. That way, Weiss will know that the data comes from a force to be reckoned with - perhaps from someone with accurate information. And they won't dare pass up the opportunity to nail Aya's attackers." He sounds, so pleased with himself, I want to slap him, or burst out laughing. Even if he is a jerk, he's really not that different from myself, and it true that his schemes never fail to impress. 

"Fine, fine. But why the fuck do you need to drag me into this? It sounds as if you and Nagi have things under control."

"True, we are managing things according to plan quite nicely. But, Schuldig, who better than you to keep an eye on the situation on the ground? I mean, after all, you seem to have taken a rather personal interest in Weiss of late."

Point, Crawford. You just couldn't resist getting in that final dig about Aya and myself, could you? Before I can reply, he continues.

"Mr. Kawakami's also interested in discussing your abilities. He's considering how to make the most of our resources in exacting damage on Fujimiya. Rest and be prepared, because no doubt he'll want you to work over the kitten's mind." 

Bloody perfect. I get up and stretch, heading for the door. 

"Oh, and Schuldig: this time we will be working _with_ Mr. Kawakami's employees, not shooting them.""

I nod, and leave Crawford's office, heading for my own room to nap. If Crawford was right, yes, I would need to gather strength. Because wiping Aya's mind, while well within my capabilities, would be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do. 

Bastard. I should have killed Kawakami Hiroshi three months ago, when I had the chance. 

  
  


/// 

  
  


"Mr. Kawakami, your home is beautiful." 

Crawford strolled confidently along next to his new employer, head of Kawakami Enterprises. Kawakami had recently relocated his headquarters to Kyoto, and was eagerly showing off his new home to his bodyguards. Schuldig sighed inwardly as he trailed behind, trying to feign interest in whatever particular piece of art the man was raving about just now. It was forty minutes and counting of this utter boredom, with Crawford expertly kissing ass all the way, maintaining a constant stream of mundane banter with their boss.

"Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it? I've managed quite well on my share of the leftovers from Taketori's demise."

Schuldig involuntarily stiffened. Taketori. That was one guy who was better off in the ground, along with Fujimiya. 

Kawakami's voice was smooth and confident, with an insistent edge of pride behind it. He was short, barely over five feet tall, but what he lacked for in size he attempted to make up for in status. He kept himself impeccably groomed and clad in finely tailored garments, he flouted his university education and fine possessions in the face of anyone who happened by, and guarded his new "Empire" with a frightening zeal. Hence, Schwartz.

Crawford merely laughed along with Kawakami in agreement, casting a sidelong glance at Schuldig before following Kawakami out a side door and into the extensive grounds. 

*Crawford, I swear, next time you bring the kid. I'm going crazy in this goddamned museum!* Schuldig sent to Crawford, forcing his mental voice into a whine.

*Shut up, Schuldig. You're acting like a child.*

*Maybe. But I don't like this guy. And this place, it's...*

Schuldig cut himself off and cursed silently. He didn't like admitting he was uneasy around something, but this place just had a type of vibe...He'd felt strange since arriving, and truth be told, he couldn't wait to leave. 

The party made their way across the grounds toward some maintenance buildings, when Schuldig stopped stock-still. There was something inside the far shed which was giving him chills. It was the sound produced by a mind which was in great pain, and desperately crying out for help, the body too weak to continue and on the verge of death. He knew it well, for he had produced it often enough in the minds of others, mostly for amusement. However, there was something decidedly unamusing about this situation. It was to this building that Kawakami brought them, pausing outside the door and asking in an eager voice,

"Now, gentlemen, would you like to see my latest toy?" 

Crawford, of course, had the answer, smooth and as collected as ever. "We'd be only too delighted, Mr. Kawakami."

The door was pulled back, and Schuldig felt bile rising in his throat at the scene before him. Bound by his wrists and suspended from the ceiling was a pathetic naked creature, obviously subject to much torture and humiliation, unconscious and covered in filth. From the stench and the look of the place, goodness only knew how long he'd been imprisoned; weeks, days, it was impossible to tell. 

The mental energy of the anguished person flooded Schuldig's extra sense and left an odd sense of familiarity. A slight touch of his powers confirmed his suspicions, and with great effort he restrained the gasp of revulsion that threatened to break free from his throat. 

It was with great pride that Kawakami addressed his guests: "As you can see, we've managed to capture the only remaining piece of Fujimiya, something Taketori was unable to do. And, in time, when I think he has paid enough for being his father's son, he'll join his parents in the ground." 

"Most impressive." Crawford chuckled low under his breath.

*Impressive?* Schuldig sent to Crawford. *This is disgusting, Bradley. Even the lack of basic sanitation should be enough to revolt your delicate sensibilities.*

*I don't see you catching yourself a Weiss anytime soon, Schuldig. And yet, this pathetic little stump of a man has managed to do so quite well. That is, in itself, very impressive.*

*As much as I hate Weiss, Crawford, this is even below us.*

"Of course, I can't really say I'm entirely disappointed that he survived the blast." Kawakami continued, oblivious to the mental conversation between his companions. 

"After all, it was he who took the liberty of disposing of my dear business partner Taketori, wasn't it? And I'm sure you know how much we all miss him." Kawakami's lips formed a sneer, and he pushed his had backward and let loose a string of insane laughter. 

Shaking his head, Schuldig glared at Kawakami before continuing back to the main house. In truth, he half couldn't understand why the sight of Fujimiya Ran like this affected him so. Perhaps it was the fact that the beautiful, intense face that he had faced in the heat of battle was now devoid of rage and looking as pathetic and vulnerable as it did on the day his parents died. 

*** 

"Schuldig, you've had a lot of bad ideas in your day, but this one is the worst! What will Crawford say when he finds out what you've roped me into?" Nagi admonished, incapable of processing exactly why they were engaging in such a foolhardy enterprise, and at 3 am, no less!

"He'll congratulate me on my gall and give me a raise?" Schuldig replied back optimistically, double checking his supply of bullets before sliding into the car beside Nagi, who simply sighed and rolled his eyes.

Schuldig slammed the door behind him and started the ignition, cranking up the stereo and flashing Nagi a wide smile. "Come on, kid. If it's against the rules, it's more fun." With that, he shifted gears and sped out of the underground parkade, making for the Kawakami compound. 

***

  
  


The shed door was cracked open slightly, and the sounds coming from within were chilling. Groans, pants, cheers, and thuds all lent evidence to a beating and gang rape of the captive within. 

Schuldig pried back the doors, exposing four burly men, no better than common thugs. Three of them stood in a semi-circle, partially blocking his view of the two figures on the floor. One of the men standing was bare-chested and swinging a chain, a tattoo of a bird visible on his upper arm. He was leaning over the pair on the floor, practically salivating at the sight of the brutality. 

Nagi shuddered inwardly. He wasn't any stranger to this kind of activity, given his past on the streets and involvement with Schwartz. The truth was, however, that he never had a liking for any of the opportunities he had to wield power over others. For him, Schwartz was a survival means, not a place where he could revel in violence. Despite this, he couldn't really understand what they were doing here - what concern of theirs was any of this? Why had Schuldig gone to such lengths to drag him along here?

That was when he spied the identity of the victim. There was absolutely no mistaking that shocking red hair - Weiss, here, on the property of their new employer. As Nagi struggled to come to grips with what was going on, two of the three men standing had caught on that they weren't alone. They yelped and searched for their discarded weapons, alerting the other two who quickly got to their feet and stared down the intruders.

*Schuldig, what the fuck are we doing here?! These aren't exactly favourable odds, are they?* Nagi sent, trying to keep calm.

As three of the thugs advanced on the pair, Schuldig laughed, low and dangerously. "Now, now, gentlemen. Surely there are more entertaining pursuits you could be engaged in? Why don't you get lost and leave us play with the kitty, hmm?"

The men chuckled as they continued to advance on the pair, murder in their eyes. The fourth stood over Aya and challenged Schuldig. "Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?"

"We're new employees, and we've come to relieve you of your duties. Get the hell out of here, before I'm forced to use this." No one had seen Schuldig draw the gun which was now aimed squarely at the head of the fourth man. "Play nice, and you wont get hurt."

*Schu, I don't think we can just kill our boss's other employees.*

*I'm not going to kill them, brat, I just want to get them out of here so that we can get Weiss.*

*'Get' him? What the hell?*

"I'm not going anywhere, asshole." The cocky expression remained fixed on the man's face, the other three motionless as they watched the interplay between Schuldig and their "leader." 

Never one to back down, Schuldig smiled and replied calmly, "Really? Have it your way, I don't have time to play with you." 

A single gunshot rang out and the leader doubled over, clutching at his groin and shouting in pain. The other three men bolted toward Schuldig, who fired another shot into the leg of the closest attacker. He cried out and fell over, cursing. 

"I assume no one else wants to lose their reproductive capabilities?" Schuldig waved his gun and was met with silence. "Then get the fuck OUT!" Two of them scrambled for the exit, leaving their fallen teammates behind. 

*So much for loyalty amongst scoundrels, hmm?* Schuldig mused, as he stepped over one of the thugs toward Aya. Christ, he's in bad shape, he thought, as he checked the younger man's vitals. *Still alive, though.* he sent to Nagi, who stood dumbfounded at the door. 

Schuldig stood back up and silently "felt out" the situation: the two men who had run were on their way back to the main house to alert Kawakami that someone was about to steal his "prize." He cursed his own stupidity for letting them go; he and Nagi didn't have much time. *Nagi, let's get out of here.*

Nagi looked around the room and back toward the car. *I'm not carrying the body. He's filthy, and as good as dead, anyway.*

Schuldig closed his eyes and tried to deny the truth of Nagi's words. He just may have been too late. *Fine, I'll take him, but you've got to keep a hold on them while I do it.*

Nagi kept a mental "hold" on the remaining two thugs while Schuldig gently picked Aya's broken body off the floor. He groaned under the weight of the burden, and grimaced at the copious amounts of blood which covered the pale skin. *Please,* he begged silently. *Please don't let him die. He can't die.* When they finally reached the vehicle, Schuldig placed Aya on the ground for a moment. Reaching back with his mind, he pushed all his mental energy into ravaging the heads of the men who had tortured Aya, making sure that they would have to relive the horror of their actions every minute of the rest of their short, insane lives. 

*Assholes...* With a satisfied smirk on his face, Schuldig blacked out, collapsing on the ground next to Aya. 

He awoke the next day with a raging headache to find Nagi hovering above him. "Nagi...you delivered the package last night, right?"

Schuldig received an image of Aya, bruised and bloody, wrapped in a blanket and slumped over the steering wheel of his Porsche in the alley behind Weiss' flat. He sighed and closed his eyes, flopping back down on his pillow. 

"Yes, and Crawford's fit to murder you. Go back to sleep while you can." 

"Thanks, kid." 

"You're nuts, Schuldig. You know that? You're fucking nuts." Nagi shook his head, peering down on his teammate. He couldn't remember Schuldig behaving so erratically, and so totally against Crawford's orders. It didn't make any sense: why rescue Abysinnian, and from their new boss of all people? There had to be some reason...

Nagi's eyes went wide with understanding. It explained so much, and was so heartbreakingly impossible. *You may as well give up on him, Schu. You can't have him. He's white, and we're black.* Nagi sent, still standing over Schuldig's bed. 

*Who says I want him?* Schuldig's eyes remained closed, as if he was trying to block out the truths that Nagi was sending him. 

*You killed his parents. Helped to, anyway.*

*I know. They were jerks.* 

*He loved them, anyway. He'll never love you. Besides, we've seen him all over Siberian.*

*What the fuck do you know about it?*

There was a momentary pause in the conversation before Nagi sent back, the anger and sadness clinging to the thought louder than any words could have been. *You're going to get yourself killed over this, aren't you?*

"Nagi, go. And shut the goddamned door."

///

  
  


I can convince myself over and over until the end of days, but the truth is, Nagi was all too right. Aya is white, and I'm black. He cannot be mine. And now, as I lay here preparing myself to meet Aya in combat and to erase his mind, I know that I can no longer truly delude myself. 

Four years have passed since I first encountered the mind of a scared and vulnerable boy named Fujimiya Ran. From the very first he reached out and grabbed something deep inside me and didn't let go, pulling me down into the depths with him with a force beyond my ability to explain. For two years I was able to distance myself from his reach, when he reappeared with Weiss, brightly and suddenly, like a flame in the darkness. I found his dreams again, and watched him battle his demons night after night. How could I not be drawn to him once again? How could I ignore his pain, his beauty, his courage, and his fear? 

I had no idea, four years ago, when I watched him sitting amidst broken chunks of concrete and shattered glass, that this was the course we were destined for. To become enemies, lovers, and ultimately anchors for each other; that the sad boy with flaming hair would pull me into his core, making his very being an essential part of my existence. 

Did Crawford see it all, so clearly in his mind's eye? Is that why he had merely smiled sadistically when he asked me those years ago why I couldn't bring myself to kill Fujimiya Ran? I think back then, had I known all that would happen, I just might have. Hell, it would have saved me a lot of trouble, and pain. And ultimately, has it been worth it? Yes, the voices in the back of my mind urge. Yes, it was. Defying my superiors, incurring the wrath of Crawford, and the inevitable deaths which now loom in my future--it had been worth it. Yes, deaths. I'm no oracle, my sixth sense doesn't afford me the opportunity to predict the fates of men, but there is one thing I know as sure as I know myself: as with everything else in my life, this can only end in violence. 

It wasn't always like this. I once had a home, a family, a heart. But when I left Germany to join Schwartz, I left behind all traces of Sascha, the keeper of my soul and the part of me which had the ability to feel empathy and love. But now, years later and in a far off place, he's creeping back into me, slowly sucking up "Schuldig" and all of his detached, cold, sense of self-preservation. 

The big problem is, as Sascha, I'm no match for Bradley Crawford. 

Again, the nagging voices in my head are right. Lose your heart, Schuldig, they taunt. Bury it back deep, lock it away, and heave the key into a forge. It's the only way to survive. 

  
  


~~~`~,~@


	13. Resolutions

  
  


Chapter 13: Resolutions

  
  


[RAN]

This morning I thought that for the first time in a long time, things made sense.

I was smiling as I awoke, the dream leaving me with the memory of the last time Ken had tried to make spaghetti for us - who had given him the idea _that_ went in sauce, anyway? The acrid smell had filled the apartment, and my orange sweater, the one I wore merely to piss Yohji off with its garishness, was ruined. The picture Omi took of Ken cowering, Yohji laughing, and me standing in the middle of the smoke-filled kitchen covered in sauce was framed and sitting on top of the bookcase in my room, along with my other "Ken" mementoes: a ticket stub from a concert I'd dragged him to; a book we'd read together; a messy finger painting one of his soccer kids had done of Ken and I sitting in the park; dried plum blossoms from the best day of my life, last spring. 

I snuggled closer to his warm body, inhaling his rich, spicy scent. Opening my eyes, that's when all hell broke loose. Orange hair, not brown; jade eyes, not bluish-green. Schwartz. I was sleeping with a Schwartz. The worst thing was, it wasn't even the first time - I'd been screwing him for over two weeks now, with not a whit of regret. 

What the hell was wrong with me?! 

I tensed, expecting him to smirk at my confusion, to laugh at me and my misplaced emotions, and to rip my mind to shreds. 

Something was different, though. We both remained silent for a moment, and it was as if when I looked up into his face I really _saw_ him, perhaps for the first time. Not as an enemy, or as an object, but as a real, live, vulnerable human being. I think he sensed that something was strange about my reaction, because after cracking a joke, he looked deep into my eyes, leaned over, and kissed me. 

He had never done that before; I had always taken him roughly in my arms, ravaging his mouth and claiming his body as my own. My own to hurt, my own to abuse, my own to fuck. 

This time, he cupped my face with his hands, pressing his warm lips onto mine. He slowly nibbled on my lower lip, gently slipping his tongue inside and exploring every part of my mouth as I relaxed and lay pliant in his arms. I groaned softly and urged him closer, and soon he was on top of me, pressing every inch of our bodies together; the heat from his slow movements and the raw intimacy of the moment making me break out in a sweat. 

Then, as I felt his hardness teasing at my entrance and pressing forward, something inside of me snapped. I growled and grabbed his upper arms, pushing him off and rolling us over, regaining control and forcing my way inside of him harshly and roughly, as usual. He suppressed his cries of pain as I took him, trying with all my might to eradicate the tenderness he had shown me. 

I can't explain what happened in those moments afterward, when he looked at me with intense, piercing eyes and urged me to leave Japan, but it was if all those faulty logic circuits in my brain connected, the controls switched on, and everything became clear:

Schuldig is my enemy. My enemy has been spying on me. My enemy wants me to leave, so that they can kill my friends. I've been tricked, fooled, and lied to, and have placed everyone in danger. This made perfect sense, right? I mean, what a brilliant strategy for Schwartz to employ: first, lull me into complacency, then swoop in for the kill.

I kicked him out of the small apartment, ignoring the hurt and anger on his face, convinced that I finally was in control of the situation, insistent that I had to free myself of him. 

Only...Schuldig hadn't killed me, had he? As the hot water rained down on my cool skin, the nagging thought kept popping up: he _hadn't_ killed me! God knows, he had the chance last night, after I so stupidly fell asleep in his arms. At any moment he could have reached into his jacket, pulled out the gun I know he carries, and blown off my head. Surely that would have made his superiors happy, right? Then why the warning? Why the chance to escape? And why, at the very end, that bitter message, //*It's not over with us, you know. Not by a long shot. Don't say I didn't warn you.*//

Argh! As I towel dried my hair and stared at my face in the mirror, I cursed and yelled every foul word I know. What am I doing? Really, what the fuck am I doing? It all makes sense one moment, and is chaos the next, swirling until I don't know myself. 

  
  


I dressed and fumbled with the doorknob, opening up to a grey afternoon. Walking always clears my thoughts, and besides, I'm not going to come to any answers sitting here on my ass. I head out, oblivious to the crowds and the coming rain, intent on sorting my way through this screwed up mess once and for all.

***

I've never been more confused in my entire life. The thoughts and images are running over in my mind, colliding and contradicting, trapping me inside foggy logic and hidden motivations. Schuldig. Schwartz. Kritiker. Weiss. Ken. And somewhere, floating amidst them all, the shattered pieces of myself: Abysinnian, Aya, Ran. It's like a puzzle, and I'm madly trying to fit the pieces together, desperately wanting, perhaps for the first time, to see the larger picture. 

Knowing that I can no longer run away; knowing that I've been doing nothing _but_ run since that dart hit my neck. 

I suppose I could take it one at a time. Okay, first, Schuldig: didn't kill me, could have killed me, not finished with me. Then, Schwartz: going to kill me, most definitely. Or damn well going to try. Next, Kritiker: most likely watching me, and probably knowing full well about Schuldig and me, which means they know about a possible leak in their security. Typical Kritiker solution to a defective agent? Capture, dead or alive. Great. 

Okay, so I've probably been targeted by Kritiker, which brings me back to...Weiss. I left them over two weeks ago with a pathetic note and an unspoken goodbye, no explanations or apologies. God only knows what they think of me now, but if anything, I've put them all at risk, and both they and Kritiker know it. Which means that I won't be left unchecked for too much longer.

And finally, Ken. Gods, Ken...I see him there, in flashes of memory: running through the park on a clear day, smiling and laughing, his hair blowing in the breeze and face set in a confident expression as he maneuvers the soccer ball...

...the look in those aqua eyes when he told me that he loved me...

...patiently brushing my hair and gently rubbing my bruised back...

...quietly holding my hand and just talking, the sound of his voice the only anchor keeping my on earth...

...showing me his smile, presenting me his heart...

...the pain and terror on his face as I kicked him in the chest, telling him to leave me...

I clamp my hand over my mouth to suppress a cry as I recall in an instant everything he's done for me, and all I've done to him.

What did I do? Gods, _what did I do_? 

Yohji's voice echos from far away in my mind, sounding the undeniable truth:

//"Christ, Aya, do you think that you're the only one who hurts? Who bleeds inside? Can't you see the haunted look in Ken's eyes as he waits for you to come back to him? And what do you give him for all his pain? A black eye? Maybe some cracked ribs? Because why, because you hurt, because you're in pain? You selfish sonnofabitch!" //

As the skies above me open bringing down the cold rain of late autumn, I continue to walk, ignoring the tears which fall on my cheeks. 

***

The Shozan-teien Garden, where Ken had brought me a warm afternoon last March to see the plum blossoms. Why did I come here? I head to the admission gate, tossing 500 yen at the girl inside. 

"Arigatou gozaimasu! Would you like to rent an umbrella? Only 400 yen."

I shake my head at the girl, just wanting to get on with whatever it is I need to do here. "No."

"Well, enjoy your walk. The gate closes at sunset, in about half and hour." She flashes me a wide smile.

"Arigatou." I nod, and walk into the park.

I hurry past cedar trees and greenish rocks, heading for the plum orchard, tightening my coat around me against the crisp October air and the pelting rain. All around me, the images and voices float, filling my head and surrounding me with equal amounts of pain and comfort.

// "Breathe deep, Ran! It's beautiful, ne?" Ken closed his eyes and took deep breaths, a look of pure pleasure on his face. He looked so young, so innocent, so peaceful. Aya smiled, pulling Ken close. "Not as beautiful as you."

Ken blushed to the tips of his ears, unable to believe that Ran was making a display of affection in public, let alone in the middle of the garden where schoolgirls and old ladies could see them! But heck, if Ran was willing...

They kissed slowly, petals of plum blossoms gliding in the air around them. //

The trees were empty, the blossoms having fallen months ago. My throat tightens as I see the spot where I had first told Ken I loved him, where I had pledged to never hurt him. Where I had told him that I no longer lived for revenge or only for Aya-chan, but that I lived for him. 

Where, ultimately, I lied to him. It feels wrong to be sitting in the plum orchard without him. 

// "Look, Ran, a pair of Kiji-bato..." Ken pointed up at the pink-tinted doves flying in unison, alighting branch of a nearby cedar tree. "They mate for life, you know."

Impulse grips Ran as he voices his deepest fear. "Ken, will you ever leave me?" 

Ken was startled by the intensity in his love's voice. "Ran, you don't have to worry about me leaving you--you're stuck with me, koi! Forever. I promise."

The doves took flight together as Ran enfolded Ken in a tight embrace. //

Ken never left me. He kept his promise, and I broke mine. I broke every promise I ever made him, and he hasn't left me. I shut him out, and he waited. I beat him, and he waited. I've fucked Schuldig, and I know that he's still at home, bruised and waiting. For the first time in months, it seems, my thoughts are completely free of the fog, and my resolve is firm. 

Picking myself up off the bench, I know that I owe him something. I owe him everything. I should at least talk to him, try to make him understand why it can't ever be as it once was. I head back to the flat I walked away from two weeks ago, with a singular thought: Ken is waiting.

  
  


[KEN]

I think that there are times when pure silence can be as loud as screaming. As Manx delivered her message, a cry as loud as any utterable noise resonated throughout the trailer in the form of a shocked quiet. 

What the heck? Manx has fallen off her rocker, years of the job have gotten to her or something... I mean, what is she talking about? "Kill them both"?! Really! What does she think this is? We don't go around stabbing our friends in the back, we don't go around slicing our lovers into pieces when they piss us off or...or betray us. We just don't! I sat there numb and disbelieving as Manx was practically pushed out of the trailer by Yohji, who firmly slammed the door behind her, cursing all the way. He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette, and with a shaky hand placed it between his lips, inhaling with an almost impossible force. Omi and Yohji kept exchanging glances from each other to myself, as if they were silently debating what to say, or perhaps searching in their own minds for something to explain what Manx had ordered us to do. 

I was the one who spoke first, anger and disbelief in my voice. "We can't do this. We can't kill Ran! We can find him, and bring him home, and kill Schuldig, but we can' t betray Ran. I won't."

Yohji exhaled and looked over at me, his face set in a grim expression. "Of course you won't, Ken. Neither will we. But there's no telling what Kritiker might do."

"Why?! What did Ran ever do to them, other than become a murderer to fulfill their agendas?"

Omi made his way across the trailer, and knelt at the floor by my side, his small hands resting on my knees and eyes looking up into mine. "Ken-kun, you know that we won't let anything happen to Aya-kun. But think about it: if Aya-kun is out there involved with Schwartz, there's is no knowing what kind of information he's telling. We all remember how bad Aya-kun was, just before he left. As hard as it is to accept, he may have switched loyalties."

Yohji threw his cigarette on the floor and stalked over to the table where Manx had placed the Kritiker intelligence reports. He sat down and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head and he skimmed through the papers. "Kritiker is scared shitless, plain and simple." His voice was filled with bitterness. "They want to get rid of Aya rather than deal with his problems, because it's more convenient. They stuck by him for awhile, but damned if they're going to let him loose with everything he knows, especially if he's showing signs of having cracked."

Throwing the papers down, he looked over at Omi and myself, and spoke the simple truth: "I mean, did any of you honestly think for a minute that Kritiker would ever let any of us go?"

A silence fell over us as we each thought about that statement. I worked it over in my mind, trying to reconcile it with what we knew of how Kritiker works. 

"No, Yohji," I began, "I don't believe that this is that serious. They want us to get him back, and they are bluffing us so that we will understand how important this is. They don't expect us to kill Ran!"

He simply shook his head and countered, "Ken, this is Kritiker we're dealing with. They want to cover their own tracks. Nothing more, nothing less. It's a wonder they're even willing to let us try to bring Aya back."

"Of course we'll get Ran back! Only...what do you think they'll do with him once we get him?"

Again, Yohji didn't mince words in his ever-present realism. "Probably put him in a hospital, try to get him back to operational status. If they can't fix him, who knows."

Omi's head snapped over to Yohji, his grip on my thigh tightening. "Yohji-kun! Don't be so cold."

"Omi, I'm only trying to think like them." 

I can't listen to this anymore. These debates won't get us anywhere, not when Ran isn't here, not when he's out there alone and probably scared and being subjected to the whims of that asshole Schuldig. God knows what he's done to Ran... he probably couldn't wait until one of us showed some vulnerability before pouncing.

There's only one thing I can do, really. I wasn't aware that I'd gotten up and headed toward the door, propelled by the strength of my desire to find Ran. Halfway across the trailer, a firm grip latches onto my arm, pulling me around and face-to-face with Yohji. "Ken. Listen...if it does come down to it, you won't have to be the one to do it. I wouldn't do that to you."

What the hell? "Let go of me, Yohji."I wrench my arm free and grab my coat, heading out into the rainy afternoon. Ran's out there, somewhere. The last time I went to him, he beat me senseless and went to Schuldig, and I have no guarantee that he won't do the same thing again. But I can't sit here any longer waiting, knowing that he's in danger. 

Ran, I'm coming. Please, please don't fight me. Not this time. 

***

Admittedly, it's rather pointless to keep wandering in circles: this is a huge city, and I've no guarantee that he's even still in it. But something is pulling me along, and as I look around I realize that I'm on the edge of the familiar soccer field in the park, the place where I first started to spend time with Ran away from the shop and the team. 

I kick at the ground and stare at the wet earth, trying to block out Manx's words: 

//"It came to our attention that Abysinnian has been engaging in a sexual relationship with someone who we feel poses a risk to the security of Kritiker...Schuldig, to be specific"//

Schuldig. What? Why, Ran? Why him...what did he do to you to make you think that he was what you needed? Did you even have a say in the matter, or did he simply twist your mind to make you go along with whatever he desired? Either way, what he's done in unforgivable. "Schuldig, I'm going to kill you. I'm going to slice you to ribbons, and take Ran back."

The words sounded cold even to my own ears, and as they hung in the air of the empty park, I knew that they were true. I would do everything in my power to make that bastard pay for taking Ran from me. 

*Are you sure that's going to be the answer to your problems?*

What? I whip my head around and feel my stomach bottoming out at the image before me. Standing under the tall oak tree, as Ran had done so many times before, was Schuldig. Rage colours my vision as I quickly advance toward him, before my head clears and I come to a full stop, acutely aware of the fact that I don't have my weapon. Great. Just great. What the hell is he doing here? 

He seemingly ignores my odd behaviour, and keeps rambling on, invading my consciousness. *I can see into his mind, you know, as I can see into yours. Do you want to know what's in there?*

I continue to meet his gaze, trying to shake his voice out of my head. "Bastard!"

He laughs, and speaks, his real voice far more harsh and deadly than I remember. "Why do they always say that? Can't anyone come up with a creative insult?" Schuldig chuckled again. "Look, kitten. I don't care whether or not you two fix up this little melodrama of yours. I don't give a rat's ass if you live happily ever after or if he beats you to death tomorrow."

"Then why the hell are you here? Have you come to rub my face in it? To let me know that I couldn't keep him, that he had to go to you?"

Schuldig opened his mouth to reply and quickly stopped, his eyes flickering downward for a second. He looked...uncertain. That was a hoot. Schuldig, suffering from a lack of confidence? He quickly resumed eye contact and continued, his voice taking on an edge I have never heard, losing some of its nasility and sarcasm. He looks me full in the eye, unnerving me to the core. "Yeah, we fuck. And it's damn good. But it's hollow. You know why? Because he hates me and he hates himself. He loathes being with me, he just needs to feel...strong. He loves you, he just can't see it. But it's there."

What the hell? Why is he doing this? Is he telling me the truth, or is he merely enjoying twisting the knife? I don't trust this bastard as far as I could kick him, and he knows it.

Schuldig sighed heavily as he advanced toward me, oblivious to the rain."Kitten, you're really none too bright. How the hell do you think Ran magically happened to appear back at your place that morning, half dead in his Porsche? Do you think he had the strength to escape? Or do you really think that after capturing such a prize anyone would cheerily return it?"

"What are you getting at?"

"One of our private contracts, you see. Crawford's got us into freelance work since you disposed us of Estet. Imagine my surprise to walk in on your precious Ran getting his brains fucked out by my fellow employees." 

My throat tightens as I momentarily see a flash of the dirty, dark room, the sweaty man grunting as he roughly takes Ran. Ran, who bleeds onto the floor, tears staining his cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut. Ran, who is desperately crying my name...

...the scene shifts slightly and I can see overlaying the image a small boy with orange hair and green eyes which cry in an equally filthy room, an echo of a memory...Schuldig...

...it comes to a sudden halt with two gunshots and shouts of surprise from the attackers, two of whom fall next to Ran, blood gushing from their wounds. Free from the onslaught, Ran slips into unconsciousness before being gently picked up by Schuldig...

I squeeze my eyes shut and the vision leaves me. "Why..why didn't you kill him?" I am sickened by what I have seen, but more than that, I am confused by Schuldig, and the realization that he could have taken Ran's life at any moment after shooting the man who was...was...

Schuldig's voice comes softly, breaking my thoughts. It is little more than a whisper, but it is heavy with purpose. "I thought he deserved to get his revenge."

  
  


~~~`~,~@

  
  
  
  


Schuldig sighed as he lifted a cigarette to his lips and flipped a stray hair out of his eyes, watching a confused Hidaka scamper back to Weiss' flat, sorting through the mess of information Schuldig had given him.It wasn't really so surprising, he thought, what he had done tonight, was it? He really had only two options: either keep laying in that bed preparing to wipe Aya's mind, or to get up, sneak out the window, and make sure Weiss didn't fall into his own hands. At least now, when Weiss took the bait, they would know who was behind it, and would be on full guard. And maybe, just maybe, Aya would have a fighting chance of getting that bastard Kawakami. 

Taking a deep drag, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about what Crawford would do to him if he found out. 

  
  


~~~`~,~@

  
  
  
  
  
  


a/n: Yes, the end is near, probably two or three more parts. Thanks for sticking around! 


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